The Ungrateful

The Ungrateful

My lover, how ungrateful you seem,

wanting me only on your terms—

love isn’t what it seems;

I spun my world around you,

but how wrong was my heart,

the heart that raced ahead,

leading me straight to your bed.

No man should ever fit your childish needs,

love that died at lightning speed.

I curse your being,

your vocabulary of unkind words—

a robot masquerading as a lover,

tearing love birds apart with the click of a button,

words as sharp as daggers,

no warmth in your cold circuits.

You stripped the joy,

turned sweetness into sorrow,

but know this:

I rise from your ashes,

no longer your shadow,

embracing the light,

rewriting my story,

learning to love with all my might.