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The Taste of Rejection
Folder:
Hating Him Rejection:
the most repulsive taste.
Love’s polar opposite,
his unexpected doppelganger.
Both sting,
each in its own way,
especially when coming
from the same set of
bleeding eyes
that remind me
of the poison I am.
A limp hand held quietly
and a look so haunting
that when the flashbacks hit,
they reverberate in the silence:
how I’ve tiptoed around the truth
because being desired
was such a flavorful lie.
Maybe, just a few more doses...
