My wallet or heart?
In the shadowed halls of five long years,
Where once a heart believed in dawn’s embrace,
Her whispers wove a web of silken lies—
Gaslight flickering, a narcissist’s cruel grace.
With dissocial shadows cloaked in tender guise,
She staged each scene of passion, pure and bright;
Yet every kiss concealed a dagger’s edge,
Carving scars within where hope once burned alight.
The drama surged like tempests unrestrained,
Eroding ego, faith, and futures planned—
No longer could I trust the word of love,
For love itself became a barren land.
When truth at last pierced through the painted veil,
She vanished silent, not a word, not one goodbye;
Left me as air, as nothing in her eyes,
A ghost discarded beneath an empty sky.
It was my gold she craved, not flesh nor soul—
The man behind the means, forever unseen.
All was illusion, fragile as morning mist;
All that I cherished—lost, forever lost, it seems.
Now sorrow sits, a constant, leaden weight,
Where joy once danced, now only echoes dwell.
How does one rise from ruins so profound,
When every path ahead leads back to hell?