Life, Love, Poetry, Writing

Revenge

Every once in a while,

to get even with you for some glossed over slight or painful truth

I’ll lay under you with eyes full of dead desire

until you sigh and ask, “What’s wrong?”

I’ll look at you with those eyes you once said glowed like amber,

murmur, “Nothing.”

and fill with bitter satisfaction

as doubt and fear flicker across your face.

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