I am but a vision
A weak illusion of her
You do not want me
I am but a fleeting memory
Gone with the delicate flutter of your lashes
Why do you not love me?
My lips are painted red
Just for you
But you do not want to feel them
Against yours
I am but a sour taste in your mouth
A tiring story you ended without
A second glance
Why do you not want me?
I am a reckless past time
My thighs, a bittersweet home to you
A high chased with abandon
But hated when the brown of your eyes Become more sharper, clearer
Why do you not want me?
Why can I not ask you these questions?
Instead I pour over these pages with
Tight lips and dimmed, wet eyes
As you sit in the corner
And think about her
As you always do, my love.
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