Black paint smeared against the edges of the eyes/ every single tear screamed a raging cry/ perfume lingers on the surface of your skin/ was as a toxic smell for me/ but I denied/ every late night arrival was smeared with red lipstick/ and still I refused to believe the tales that had been told about you/ why is it that I fix up excuses and excuses to dismay the evidence/ but I don't think I can retaliate with the fact that there's a woman in the house/ messy hair and uneven breathes/ red puffy lips followed with unbuttoned shirts/ your words say forgive me/ a deer caught dead in the light of headlights/ why your shadow hid you in a blanket of charming features/ the light that disposed you/ truly shows your adultery sins -a.j.c
YOU ARE READING
The Bullshit Journal ~ by a.j.c
PoesieJust another idiotic poem book That will never be anything more And you probably won't read any of this. But if you do. You must have felt pain like this to understand any of it. If not, and you still understand. You're just lying to yourself.
