🩸

serenaded in song and gift wrapped in deceit;

i re-equip the self-taught muscle memory of distrust,

retaining my superstition that every 'hello' is like a promised goodbye.

the lies make the truth less believable, yet still- 

uncurl your pinky fingers from mine and stay put.

the deaf lead the blind like kamikaze disciples

rigidly poised yet oh so spineless with stolen honourability

throwing away their sense of direction

with intent of getting lost in you.

don't confuse me for your martyrs; I am not a victim of sacrilege 

my fidelity is a choice resembling that of a sacrifice,

braving relentless storms without forecast for catharsis.

but what do you do when it's more than you can give?

puckering up to knuckles and pressed to lips like a secret

these lacerated palms leak with blood pact saturation,

clenching back conniption fits and liquified headaches

ingesting the loitering aftertaste of my thoughts of you

tell me: am I flavoured with sweet sin or acrimonious virtue?