will I buy
the lies. Fed to me
as golden honey. But the runny
nectar bit my tongue as vinegar.

No longer
will I sweep myself up
in the love. I felt colorful
as the leaves in autumn, swirling
in crimson till I hit bottom.

No longer
will I pine
as the evergreen in a sky
of blue. The cue turned brittle. And I
whittled till my needles dropped
to the ground.

No longer
will I hold
the dream of rainbows
unicorns and emeralds
green. The attack has painted
the reverie shiny black.