I'll just be your bittersweet
Flavor of the week
Discreet cheat sheet
For life's lessons on repeat.
You next victim in bed
Becomes a tally mark above my head
And you'll never know the lucid dreams
That accompanies my self esteem.
Thinking about how I was special
Until special meant getting fucked by you
And left for the aftermath of what the fuck
That she's cleaning up after your muck.
Where the fuck is your empathy
Oh wait, pardon me,
I took that in my back pocket
When you whispered "I love you" sweetly.
A mistake mishaped hand grenade
Retrograde the renegade, Miss Jackson back door serenade
As I leave without a sound or trace
Except the rips in hidden lace.
And what am I to do for you
When you're nothing but a dishonest fool
To think that I wouldn't find out
That she had nothing less than a minor doubt.
You have a ring in your bedside drawer
Sealed with promises of forever
Your wife wouldn't love knowing you sold your soul
To the empty side of a semi-warm pillow.
YOU ARE READING
The Black Kettle
PoetryA book of poetry that I was going to publish but decided to use for online formatting and constructive criticism so I can create a book of poetry that I can debut.
