(Published on The Writer’s Club)
I naively embraced our memories in technicolor.
I should have listened to my friends.
I blinked the red flags to the trash bin full of empty decisions.
I’ll explore your clothes without your body wearing them.
The knife you plunged into my shoulder blade
only hurts when I remember
you stabbed me in the back.
Loving you satiates my addiction and medicates
the part of me that hates the man in the mirror.
I’d have called the cops for intoxicating me
with your love without my consent,
but you’d twist my words,
and I’d end up in a psyche ward,
gawking at the white walls closing in,
I manipulated my way out of a straightjacket.
Solace washes over panic,
rinsing my nerves like a cold shower
We traveled to a cabin to stay low.
The crime of love carried a life sentence.
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