Pathologically lying is your specialty.
Worn on your lips like decadent candy.
Big man always flaunting your superiority
on the teeny tiny spec of the world that even knows you exist.
Oh I hate and love your ego,
but I will shed you violently.
Creating a vacuum on the crest of your obsolescence.
Maliciously I will impose an apt punishment,
wiping my lips of my blood
drawn when you bit me.

Oh darling I learned so much
from your well rehearsed touch.
Trusting in my stupidity
will be the wedge that leads to reciprocity.
Oh YES…how sweet it is
YOU believed in me.
It will feel so good to use the comfort zone you nested on.
An absolutely perfect tool to fool with you.
My love,
illusion will become my specialty.
I know it won’t change who you are
or what you do tomorrow.
But I will feel so damn good
making an ass out of you,
as I supersonically fly past all those good memories
of you and me.
Seeing them under infrared,
nothing more than shards of spent ammunition
used to kill me,
but in the end, death awakened me.
For love, that immeasurable atom on the periodic table of elements
crossed the road to the other side.

Copyright © 2004 Sara Coslett