The object you desired, from what had recently transpired,
were the happenings of unwrapping things,
that should be mostly left unsaid.
I watched with some indignity, feelings that grew inside of me,
with closed eyes, still plain to see
your wretched heart stopped dead.
Your prodding and provoking, saw me nodding, saw me choking
as I stuttered taut, of cluttered thought,
to volcano from my head.
Yet you looked on so cluelessly, despite claims you were through with me
and you have the nerve to observe
that you're the one misled?
I no longer feel emotional, my loss of faith too close to call
you're not who you said you are, but flawed and irregular
wound dry, it has been bled.
For the past I'm unrepentant, but now at peace and mild contentment
you've been dealt your hand, and must understand
now made, you must lie in your bed
By DB (06/28/2011)