Smiles so radiant,
They bring the warmth of morning sun.
Her hands—soft—like a cotton blanket wrapped in last night’s dream.
But her words? They sliced.
Sharp as swords,
And you bled.
Yet you called it love—
Because red reminds you of Valentine’s Day.

Every word stirred emotions,
None of them pleasant.
Every emotion sparked actions,
That later brought regret.
Every action called forth reactions
You never saw coming.

Yet—
Her silence hurt worse than her voice.
When she spoke, it breathed life,
Even as it drained yours.

In silence, you watched your feelings die too soon.
And like a wounded dog—still loyal—you returned.
To the very hands that hurt you.
You called it love.
And from that love, grew loyalty.

But your loyalty made you forget—you too were royalty.
A king, now crawling.
Your longing for a queen
Blinded your reason.

And all you have left
Is pain.