It's a glass bottle.
A hollow jewel,
a treasonous secret
to have loved and
then "loved".
I watched the blood drain out his heart and in it's absence I took another.
"It's alright." I lie to myself.
Playing with love is like jumping rope without knees.
Every time
I get up
I'm doomed
to
fail.
And just as I think I've learned my lesson,
a shiny new toy catches my gaze.
Breathe.
Take in the Armagnac of their body.
Absorb the champagne of their soul.
Let fate take the reigns and crash through your home to theirs.
Then let the game begin.
"You don't truly want them do you?"
"You want them to want you."
