Glint

A poem

Image sourced from Pixabay (CCO)

Misused, confused,
My trust abused,
Your burning hands
Were not refused.

My life forsook,
Your touch, your look;
My reputation,
Cost enough.

But how you lied,
I’m cast aside,
My dreams, destroyed,
To feed your pride.

For now I’m
By your hands to die,
I see it now,
The reason why,
So devil quick,
to spite, to fly,
The glint, that evil,
In your eye.

© Cathie Tufnail

If you’d rather listen than read please click below