Darma

you stuck a fork in my heart and feasted on my love,
but its never enough,
you carved my mind into a narrow space,
then made me think about trust,
when you werent in love, your in lust,
your wisdom started scraping my soul,
and you lied about beleiving me.
i ripped up my clothes with a chainsaw,
so you could see the internal sores.
your like hot tea,
so good when it goes down,
but your brain breathed air of innocence
renewing and freshining the evil throughout my lungs,
but when you walk out of that door,
i count my bruises
and think of the night you wont come home