Cyanide

Every minute peels across my pride
Seething into cracks where it may hide
His words poison worse than cyanide
Just remember his heart already died

Unto the moon I do confide
A confidant down by the roadside
He uses pain like trails to be a guide
Reaching him requires more than stride

A sign on the door reads “occupied”
It’s partially true but somewhere a lie
Pictures of smiles and times that we cried
Hidden from view and a prying eye

© Delia Ross. 2019

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