Withered

 I thought you were my fruit,

But you withered on the vine.

I felt the poison that you stored pollute the sweetness of the bite.

And though I felt it in my veins,

My hunger paralyzed my sight.

And I let you rest inside me, too full of you to flee or fight

The night will come and find you,

While I'm cradled in new arms.

And your withered face will gaze into the mirror that you guard.

Lie in bed beside your vanity,

Old and spent and sour.

And all your evil demons will re-surface and devour.

Reviews

[kaycee]

I love this. Especially:
"The night will come and find you,
While I'm cradled in new arms."
(Prepare for English class b.s. I'm about to throw down...)

It's really cool how you used the duality of night time to be both frightening and comforting...like a baby being lulled to sleep.

Bleh, I love it.

[Wondering Mind]

Ouch! The bitterness is felt strong in this metaphor-rich write. Nicely chosen lines and phrases.