the marionette and the puppet
his mouth formed words
of dishonesty but they tasted so sweet
like honey and sugar that i almost believed them
i almost believed him
but the shattered pieces from my broken heart scattered on the ground reminded me of why i could not
for he was the marionette and i was the puppet
and i just never had had enough strength to cut the strings
YOU ARE READING
lost souls: rain, stars, and iced coffee
PoetryDoes anyone remember how anything begins? Or how anything ends? For every story, every song, every movie has a beginning to an end and an end to a beginning, but what about the rest? What about prior to the beginning or after the end, and everything...
