his love is a poison
wrapped up in ribbons,
a slow suffocation of all that seemed shining,
a promise of dark dreams stinging with terror
while violence lurks behind yesterday’s flowers.

she is cut to the bone with whispers and smiles.
this is not love, this is raw, wicked power.
it is rape with soft words that leave torn, jagged wounds
on the bright, bloody shards of the soul of his lover.

the shadow of fear, falls cold as the night
as hearts search in darkness,
for truth without lies.

_{(c) 2020 BGeiger}