salt my wounds to
taste
all is fair in love and war
crimes
if I'm being honest
ego
is my only
hard line
you see
it's four o'clock
and my hourglass
figure
is
ticking
you turned me into a time
bomb
got my wounds still
itching
we could chicken and
egg
the emotional damage
all day
but what's left to show
you're still a pretty good
lay
I've got to fake this
emotional
nonchalance
this
relationship
reconnaissance
if I learn too much you’ll
remove me from the garden
ask for your rib back
Genesis
well there's a particular fear
that causes the
snake
to strike
and I'm a butcher
bird
baby
call me a
shrike
your first serving helping
saved up for later
all these broads
are palate cleansers
bring on the
savoir-faire
because I must internalize my misery
the sadness
you drill
into me
the halo of shame
you
bought
and then charged
to me
the gas lights
start to burn
you see
each perfume
the pilot light
and if my wings weren’t
clipped maybe I’d be less
fight
more
flight
got the red flags flying
with the blood that you've
drawn
and it's raining down
metaphor
like a Taylor
Swift
song
About the Creator
Cali Loria
Over punctuating, under delivering.
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