Dearest love, tell me why you're only an honest man when you're high,
remorse only visiting you during bad trips when suddenly you can't lie
to yourself and to me. Tell me why did random women get the best of you
and you only gave the dregs of yourself to me disguised as the finest brew?
Empty promises of love like broken tea cups litter the floor and I can't even cry.
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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Comments (2)
Sadly beautiful poem. Well done.
oh this hits like a ton of bricks. I resonate sadly to an extent with the guy cos I've made similar mistakes, lies and bad choices...working hard to improve though... well done on capturing the emotion in a poetic way!