You cooked it, in the lies
behind my back, while you told me, you're mine.
So bruised, so used. My heart lays sore as it frys.
Silently, you devour the taste, when we dine
You burnt it, in the betray
when you are sleeping with her.
Under the hot water, straining to beat. But all I can do is look away.
To you, does it smell sweet, as gum myrrh?
You boiled it, in hate that I collected,
when you turn my heart, in a game
I am another, your victim that has been infected.
You pick and choose players, but we all end up the same
As your tinned tomatoes....
-
Author:
4wheels (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 12th, 2020 03:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments2
Strong emotive write.
Andy
Thanks,
AJ
HI AJON ~ Brian here. Love the Title (very Andy Warhol !) but not the content ! TINNED TOMATOES are a fave of mine for STEWS & SOUPS ! However reading you *angry* poem I am ashamed to be a Man ~ but I like your analogy ! treating precious relationships like TINNED TOMATOES ! Cooked - Burnt - Boiled and then consigned to the SHELF in a TIN ~ GOD FORBID ! This is a sad Poem but not without resolve. I have never treated My Ladies like that and I never will ! I trust & pray that you wont ever be treated like that again in the future ~ AMEN !
Blessings & Peace & Joy
Love BRIAN & ANGELA 🧡🤍💙
Thank you
AJ
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