Photo Credit: Tumbler
By: Micaela Shambee
I have lived like a butterfly to a flame.
Burning myself, disgusted again, so much, too tired…Fucked.
I’ve been the betta sucka.
Becoming your rancor, gutting out my love ‘till my bile bleeds, dripping
Rustic to the ground like decaying autumn leaves.
Is this what you like?
Since I’ve been loving you, I’m about to lose my worried mind.
Every, every, every time, another lonely Friday night,
‘til you said to me, “Coffee? Or a mouthwatering tangled tango of toffee cream?”
It must’ve been the burning candles; you know how I love the flames;
It must’ve been your cologne’s notes of sandalwood; or just loneliness…
I laughed, said yes, let you, some stranger, kiss, and kiss my pulsing lips.
Spilled coffee grounds, bent over some barista’s kitchen counter crazing your cocky, jockey,
Suaveness, falling deeper into hellish bliss.
‘Til I kissed her
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