Despite my unseemly form,
Writhing with inadequacies,
I was once a romantic at heart,
A passionate bard,
Singing the praises of my loves,
Seeing the light in the dark,

But it wasn’t to last,
One night was a turntable,
You came to me,
A snide succubus,
A bloody mary,
Lashing flames of erotic venom,

You meant only ill,
Your words brought me a stinging sensation,
As if needles pierced my lips,
Sewing my mouth shut,
You rendered me mute,
Voiceless,

After that hellish night,
My tongue shall never again utter romance,
I speak only with these inked words,
I’d need a scalpel,
To return my joy,
A glasgow smile of sorts,

Truth be told though,
It’s not worth severing these threads.

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