Your hands felt like home
But the walls were on fire
You kissed me with venom,
called it desire.
I wore your chaos
like perfume on skin
Thinking the burn
meant I let you in.
But it stung too deep
filling me with deceit,
blinding my eyes
that I couldn't see your love was a lie.
You painted red flags
like roses in bloom,
I danced through the garden,
mistaking my doom.
Your silence was poison,
your words, a blade—
Yet I stayed,
in the mess that we made.
Saying I was too much
and that you never meant to do such.
Your love was just different, one of a kind,
special and really hard to find.
But love shouldn't hurt
like a war in my chest,
if breaking me down
was how you felt best.