The poison kiss

The poison kiss

My lipstick bled. You kissed her, not me.

I tasted the spaces you left behind.

Her name lingers on your lips, mine fades.

I held my silence like a wound.

And you, careless, kept walking away.

I watched your shadow lean into her,

felt the heat that should have been mine.

Every word you whispered to her

echoed like a knife through my chest.

I wanted to shout, to claw, to vanish.

The mirror caught my face, red and raw.

Your touch should have been mine alone.

Instead, it is a memory I cannot erase,

a story written in blood and perfume,

where I am the one who was left behind.