Soft, darkless eyes smile with the curl of honest lips.
The words “I love you” never sounded so sincere before.
Hand in hand—a kiss—
How lucky I am
To look and you and watch you stand
Outside a garden of perfect rose after perfect lily
And see only me—past the thorns and deadened petals.
But wait.
A silly girl on the playground I was—
To think that everyone was honest and good:
To think those darkless eyes were ever darkless at all.
The words “I love you” never sounded so sincere before.
I never want to hear them again
Because believing in sincerity was lost with your betrayal.
Insincerity is now my best friend, since I can believe in it so much more
than you—and my old best friend, who pretended to ever be one to me at all.
That knife still twists in my back.
The pain is still real.
How lucky I am
To know now.
When the next one comes along to walk into the garden
And tries to look at me,
I won’t think like the sunflower;
I won’t bend to his artificial light.

I am a rose
With thorns to protect me from hands of betrayal.
From pain.
From heartache.
From you.
From people like you.
From liars.
From men.

Soft, darkless eyes smile with the curl of honest lips.
The words “I love you” never sounded so sincere before.