Of A Turtle Dove

She tells me lies,
Her poison wing’d tongue
Whispering sweet greetings
Her mind willing me to succumb,
As fierce thoughts of hate
Flit across her face-
Too fast for most to see,
But none, have known her as long as me;

Her spitfire heart
And a temper to match
She masks her indifference
An unopenable latch,
But yet those ivy eyes spark from within
Jealous for reasons that have never been;          

I tried to tell her
As much as I could
To be what her heart wants
But not once has she understood
And all those frustrations
Of a wasted life
She takes out on me,
A friendship strife;

And though she says not one word,
She needn’t divulge,
For her silence deemed
A double edged sword
And every tear I shed
Every drop of blood
The broken heart of a turtle dove.

The End

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