Beside the oak tree
A picnic for two
Romantic gestures
A girl could melt in your flowers
A home cooked meal
My heart twisted like your fusilli pasta
I don’t drink wine
But you poured it
You speak pure eloquence
I lay out on a luxuriant bed of flowers
I listen intently
Your mouth a composer
The words are music
I am begging to be your conductor
The orchestra erupts
And I long to be wrapped in your melody
Cradled in this symphony
Your words become the curtain over my eyes
Suddenly I am teetering on the edge of a cliff
Hanging on to the edges of your words
The shards of punctuation stab my fingertips
Holding onto your words is starting to feel like life and death
“I heard you.”
“I’m listening.”

You held my hurt in the palm of your hand
You made it feel small
Nestled it in your arms promising protection
Words and Words
Rehearsed and Repeated
Meaningless music to manipulate
You gave me a foot and I only took an inch
Which is still precisely 1.54 cm more than anyone has ever given me
I’m an intoxicated mess
High off the words you’ve injected into my veins
A musical pulse beating through me
A man who probed me for my wounds
I am having withdrawals from all the things you’ve said to me
I am sick.
Addicted to your words
Your music
Melodic lies that have encased my brain
I can’t tell if you’re a musician or a magician
I have fallen for your tricks
I will be drowning at your concert.