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The Void

by Jillian Spiridon 8 months ago in sad poetry

Some men are poison. Others are worse.

The Void
Photo by Charles Deluvio on Unsplash

how you embellished when you gave your name—

like it was a secret you were dying to share—

I realized then that you would be the one

to make me choose the lie over the truth

it was so easy to take you in, the suit

pressed finely by hands that weren’t yours,

and I listened quietly as you regaled yourself

in tones like you were a god made mortal

guys like you weren’t that rare, I knew,

but the charm in your smile lowered

the defenses I’d hidden behind all this time,

even as I swallowed white lies and exaggerations

weeks in, you wouldn’t let me pay once

for any of the lavish meals laid out in a spread,

morsels you barely touched as you laughed

“sorry, gotta watch my waist,” like it was funny

the other girls tried to catch your eye,

and you indulged them with lingering looks,

even while I sat beside you, hands twined,

one-half of a couple (such a lark now)

and when you whispered that you loved me,

I could sense the deception in the way

you pulled away too quickly, like a reflex,

and your eyes were black in the dark

my sin was that I so wanted to believe

in the sanctity of the overused word “love”—

so much so that I lost myself to the deceit

and fell into the black hole named you

sad poetry

Jillian Spiridon

just another writer with too many cats

twitter: @jillianspiridon

email: [email protected]

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