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.


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