Hi there! This is a poem I’ve had brewing for a little while and finally decided to write this evening, which I hope you enjoy.
There were briars tangled under her skin,
Hidden,
Just below the surface so her thorns pricked
But no one could see that it was her
That left the scratches on me;
And she disguised with perfume
Her Hemlock breath, so that whilst I knew
That every word she said was a poison,
Settling in a slow, long-lasting decay,
Acid burning through the foundations of self, everyone else
Would simply compliment the sickly scent of roses;
And she was a witch,
That cast spells of enchantment and glamour
To hide the truth of her fangs behind
A sycophantic smile,
And whilst her curses blinded me, all
Everyone else could see,
Was the halo she made out of hell fire and wore
Like diamonds; and little by little,
I started to believe
Her falsities.
A Teacup Full of Stories 