Literary Yard

Search for meaning


By: Linda M. Crate


you’re a loaded
god complex
cocked and pulled
shot me straight through
the heart,
and my stained glass
soul is still
reeling in the silver of
your melancholy;
giving love a bad name
because the only
chess game
you’ll play is lust—
lulled me into a
false sense of security
just so you could
destroy me
because to you this was
all a game,
but i gave you my
slivered and silver
cold and remote
you are the moon’s
a winter’s kiss
bluing the lips of
innocence until you’ve
taken all their warmth away,



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