Wilted

Watching you watching her pretend to be me….

Making her smile the way I should smile. I cringe the way she should. She’s stolen my my moments…. my kisses…. my life.

I mourn the miscarried memories that will never be…the “what if” walks in the park have gone dark… eclipsed by your moonlight.

You lied. You said “us” when you meant YOU. You said me when you meant she. I am not HER. But you treat her like me….

This fractured stem of trust cannot sprout the season’s romance standing in dead soil. Broken now is our foundation, tainted are your words and poisoned are our roots.

Dead are our flowers.

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