The Siren

Tangled notions;
A belly full of
Flattery
And dishonesty

I was
Always the "replication",
Never the starkly contrasting
Beginning.

Perhaps there never was a comparison
To be made;

I see the difference now.

He wanted an open wound;
You were the gate-keeper to them.

Uniqueness doesn't have a copyright;
The mass production of it
Is a contradiction,

Just like paint against your skin;

Just like the foundation you're marinating in.

Through

Compliments
For cocktails
Of your transitions and eloquently strung
Fabrications

You spool them up
And touch every curious piece of them.

They're addicted to
What they believe is there;

Fall subject to your abandonment.


Love gets lost in the competition.
Its only purpose was to measure who

-Out of the two of you-

Got the most attention.


Your toxic narcissism
Radiates.

You were never "ambrosia";
You were always The Siren.