Filed under: The Queen's Ledger
You wore my face like a costume and turned my voice against me. What I had crafted you made cheap and dirty; a joke dressed up in lace and barbed wire, smeared with your dirty fingerprints and smug smiles.
You whispered pretty lies in my ear with your fingers on my pulse. I thought you were holding me but you were measuring every flutter, every skip, trying to see where your impact would land the loudest.
You told me you were honest and good, and then lied over and over again and smiled behind your hand as you watched my face to see if I'd caught you yet.
You told me I was beautiful and brave and slid insults under the door that cut away the parts of me I loved the most. You wrapped it so nicely, it took me ages to realize-I'd been tracing my fingers over your words and you were laughing as you watched me.
You dropped your apologies in my lap like notes scribbled on scrap, tropes discarded as carelessly as your promises. You signed your name with my signature in my blood and called it honor. It was theft.