A DECEIVER SCHEMER
As a dreamer, I never once dwelled on schemers,
so, as a believer, I fell for him, a deceiver.
I was never an anger screamer and tear streamer
until romantic panic lay me down as griever.
I believed his story, his strengths and regrets
which had me set to gently drift into his net
where hidden, as yet, were his sharp-hearted threats.
He spoke of love most profuse when he played to seduce.
I revealed all my truths, he used them for abuse
while running hot then cold to steer me towards confused.
Oh, he was charm, lushness and warmth, a manly steamer.
Then he was harm, harshness and cold, a heartless quiver.
Playing the fool to his cruel, is my self-debt,
one my brain did not deduce, nor heart now excuse.
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