Staring at her nails painted the color of steel
Like bullets on end, that has on occasion severed her better conscience
Despite her best efforts, against him
She says, “sometimes I want a write off, I was so young
Surely it was a disturbing love, but I can only determine
love nonetheless.”
But he never says anything back, thoughts flashing verbatim, drumming
The sounds of war that she had painted on, the color of proud obsidian glean
Instead, unworn by time, the grayed sentiments satin stained,
“But I can’t forgive you, you were my first love and
You broke my heart.”