The Truth About Love

He was the blade that cut deep into my flesh

And the blood that ran cold from my veins,

Dripping from my fingertips.

He was the puff of smoke blown in my face

Out of a friend’s mouth

And the hot ember that burnt my lungs.

He was the venom that stung my skin

And the spider making webs

In every corner of my room.

He was the incurable disease

That no doctor could detect

And the drug I took to forget

That I was dying because of him.