Like footage after a robbery, she still has photographs of us
I surrendered the receipt to those digitized memories
When she determined my affections were deceit
Indeed, I might concede that there was,
In my heart, conceit
Treachery in every kiss,
For my heart was never in it
At the tip of my tongue, a concoction:
Curiosity – the cloak of my lips – and she tasted
Dose after dose – these fed my prose – till alas!
She discovered my mind to be no wonderland
And this, a chapter she must close.