An Imminent Fantasy
But it's only that drunken-immortality fairytale
embedded into your unfortunate soul and
pressed seemingly against your lips,
struck across with that fancy red gloss of her favorite coat
of which gathered every ounce of deceit
she could have possibly mustered up
out of the back of her sickening throat.
"Forever"
was merely another one of her words
that made its way into the void
sometime before reaching your such gullible ears.
Or perhaps every syllable that slipped
from the tip of that tongue
is simply another piece of the actual void,
relishing its way
into a deliberate consumption of your senses
to ease every misfortune with bitter condolences.
This was your first mistake;
She craved adequacy of every "I'm sorry"
she spoke that slithered away
and wrapped itself around your mind and soul so tightly that
you utterly forgot what the word "pain" meant
simply because she forgot that "truth"
was even a damn word.
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