Weapons

You love me
like it’s a weapon,
a dagger,
poisoned deception.
My mouth screams
for your devotion
like it’s a magic potion
that will heal the wounds
incised
by your knife.
I wonder
when the slicing
will turn to dicing
and my soul lies
vacant at your feet.
Your words are razors
carving out my insides
but your silence
is more violent
because I’m forgetting
all of that regretting
I did when you spoke.
Whispered sentiments
penned in resentments
because
I’m here to your there
and we can’t go
anywhere but back.

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