Narcissus

You know nothing of love.

All the pretty things you’ve said

Were just fluff around your brain

Sweet poison injected into her veins

With no substance or depth

But slow death.

You know nothing of love

Of waking up to her smile

Of building life by her side

Of supporting each other’s dreams

And her joyous heartbeat

Under your fingertips

The only genuine bit

In your imagined reality.

You know nothing of love

Because the only love you know

Is for yourself.

Stay there,

King.

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