Senses of Betrayal Version 2

and just like that, I awoke

her eggshell vows were broke

but it was me who was cracked

seeing her expose her yoke

asked to inhale

a stovetop’s red coil down my throat

just to wash it down

with her biting words served as coffee grounds

but when put through filters

“Et tu, Brute,” sieved out

nights of shivers and cold sweats

in my own saltwater without a vest

while the scent of lies filled the house

holding the air hostage to waft about

the aroma of liquid dripping slow

kisses from wildfire’s twin sister smoke

drip. drip. drop.

down into a pot,

to love, to honor, to comfort

to touch a handle

not knowing if it was hot

to pour black hole liquid,

straight into a mug

to tilt it back and burn my tongue,

all because I chose to chug

to shutter now when I realize how

bitter the taste, the sips really was.