The Coffee Hour

never fix

My nails are coated in red as my fitted dress shimmers away in the darkroom.

The swift, delicate taste of wine giggles my thoughts to sweet nothings,

but my laughter startled my once porcelain skin that's now bitter from his aggression.

His once warm hands fitted into mine, now cold as his stoned mind and heart.

Didn't I tear a piece of me for you?

To show how much I....but that wasn't true.

It was your bottles of treasures that we shared more than our memories.

But I still see in your sweet-no. That's another lie.

You'd always kept that mask on, till now as a true tyrant you are.

Playing games until you don't get what you want.

And here I am, cocooned in my own prison of thoughts.

The pit of butterflies, no longer fluttering.

Stealing your cravings, your happiness, until you run out of prescriptions.

Watching the coated paint drip down my wrist while I'm numb.

If only I could see your false cry one last time, I would smile.

But this could only end with a tragic night.

Since the thread of my heartstring I clutched to put back together will never fix.