I used to write in cursive spells,
inking truths that tasted like rain
but you turned my poetry into poison,
Chased lines laced with your name.

You kissed me like a metaphor,
complex and dripping wet with heat
but love,
real love,
doesn't require a decoder to speak.

You let me believe I was your muse,
your midnight confession,
your holy place ,
but really,
I was just a page
you planned to burn first right after you hit your game .

I caught the flicker in your eyes,
the kind that you tried to hide
But
Hell nah
that was gasoline
and I just happened to be the match you struck just enough
to watch me glow before I crashed
Yet ....

You etched lies in lullabies,
made betrayal feel like slow jams
smooth,
seductive,
until the bass dropped and
I realized I was dancing to my own delusions

You didnt  just leave me
you left your ghost in the folds of the over lapping pieces that you helped place back in to pieces
Now every time I recite my pain,
your name curls up like the smoke from your smokers
intense and just the flavor on my tongue that I couldn't yet quite grasp

But let this be clear
I was never your charity case .
Or the one that got away
I’m the rewrite.
I’m the ink turned red with every stroke you brush ,
Im the chorus in every rhyme you spit because
I'm really HER
So betray me,
break me,
bleed me on the stage,
and I’ll still spit verses even your opps will replay
because even poison
becomes power
when a poet learns
how to aim.