Acidic Art

Fabricated Fate

Your carriage was highly decorated.

Ravishing red ribbon bleeding through the forest like you desired to be seen

I could have turned

I could have run the other way

Instead, I let the trees take turns as my hiding places

until I tore my dreadful dress on the thorns I meant to avoid.

Loud enough to jump your horses,

causing the wheels to screech to a halt;

Freezing my boots to the ground 

as cool snowflakes garnished my ratchet hair

Before I could run, you spoke to the fear festering in my hooded eyes

"Don't fret, my darling"

I took your hand like you had something to offer

(If I could go back and cut off my own hand, I would)

I let myself follow you, and your charm-covered chaos

Sometimes I loathe myself,

knowing I could have dodged a broken heart

And yet, I cannot seem to burn the remains of the book you gifted me;

the one I tore to shreds and stained with all the tears I swore I'd never let fall on account of you.

But now it sits in the corner of my closet;

untouched,

waiting for someone to find it

and glue it back together.