Betrayal is a bouquet
of rainbow flames - blinding petals
bound by vines that choke.
A game of light and shadow,
delusions dancing to distract
across bruised walls.
Truth looms in creases -
in darkest corners, unseen,
while naivety stacks like kindling:
inverted pyramids of innocence
that teeter precariously, igniting.
And the same spark that drew
the moth to the flame
now brands with pain.
Realization stamped with liquid wax,
sealing the facts,
stripping denial like chipped paint.
Still, you sprinkle gasoline lies,
licking the lungs, filling them up
with sweet-nothing smoke.
But in this ring of fire,
it's too late. I must wait
for the crescent of coal to cool -
Then I cannot fool