Rebound

Fickle as they come and go, without a parting word, fly-tipping memories into a pit of disregard that rots in the sun, and burns in the cold like the icy, sharp and beatless heart inhabiting my chest as a squatter, stealing my blood (like the thief it is) and filling my veins with wonder; of a kind that’s built to ever-desire, and priding itself in trickery.

But lest we forget the victims, lying and lying to their new-found lovers…

and modesty deserts me.

Not wise, but privy to workings ever-deeper; evermore, everless, and always deceiving. Take care to examine the love you’re receiving.