curtain dropped

Her every word slit through my heart.
Your mendacity shone so bright—
it kept glistening against my eyes.
Oh, I kept falling for your lies,
how I nearly opened my palm for just another guy.

I know the world—
turned out I’m still naive.
And your presence killed that part.
Now the blood reeks on your fingers.
I’m not sure about the effect,
not sure I’m there yet...
but I hope every time you break something,
in your head, this word lingers.

At first, I really felt sorry
in cold December’s frost and ice,
thinking—how did you survive?
Then the wind blew hard.
In a second, it was all spring and nice.
But the wind brought the curtain down—
and all I saw was a lie.

My heart was glass.
Your image in a frame.
Your eyes measured her body,
and maybe your hands claimed.
Still, your fingers circled me in blame.
Oh, how far the earth revolves—
yet men, they do not change.

You slid in her DMs, then hers, then mine,
but hid behind her shawl.
And your Machiavellian act—
you came to me with your eyes bawled.
Your words were bold,
but they never held their weight at all.

Back and forth—your war
with your ego and insecurity.
How unhappy must you be
to compliment me
for not being her?

You couldn’t have her,
so you found her friend.
Like a drug takes hold of a man,
you started the shit
again and again.

Now I hope I was more than that—
just a subject for your needs.
I hope when you write my name,
your fingers start to bleed.
It's so messed up—
I don’t know with whom I am mad.
And the shit you do...
Oh lad,
you must be insecure,
so unhappy—
because I can’t justify this all
with the word bad.

Were those all lies?
The things you said—
the darkness, your fears,
craving my presence,
your reasons for me to be near?

Because all of that I believed.
And now I know the truth...
but why am I relieved?

Maybe I am at fault.
I should’ve seen the signs.
I shouldn’t have let it slide
when you lied—
so many times.