unwatered heart

the fairytale of being yours

is merely an echo of an unwatered heart

and though your words drench me in hot apple cinnamon

the meaning is quick to depart.

the ”I love you’s” are soft, but unforgiving

your love waits, i linger desperately

warm by the fire, but only an object of desire

clinging to what used to be me.

my fulfillment was mindful artistry

now it’s serving myself on a platter

your adoration fit snug in my pocket

flattery that achingly mattered.

my words are tainted with dramatic irony

knowing how the story will always end

as i hold onto you for the “very last time”

over and over again.

the fairytale of being yours

is merely an echo of an unwatered heart

i sip on our memories fondly

i place down the glass to start.