Your greeting was warm—
unconditional, kind—
but behind your eyes,
a blade awaited.
We shared secrets
as kin would do—
with trust,
with loyalty.
You sold them
for mockery—
and worse,
for laughs.
Now I sit with wounds,
my trust—
broken,
beyond repair.
Your name
tastes like iron
in my mouth.
Once,
we laughed.
Now,
I remember only
how sharp
a friend’s knife
can be.
About the Creator
Tennessee Garbage
Howdy! There is relatable stuff here- dark and twisty and some sentimental garbage. "Don't forget to tip your waitresses" Hi, I am your waitress, let me serve you with more content. Hope you enjoy! :)
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Comments (2)
This is a powerful reminder that not all wounds are visible, and not all enemies come from the outside.
I love how this has almost like a timeline. Like a conversation of realisation. I love the way it was structured. And how it went as dark and fiery as a friendship when it ends, using words and phrases like 'you sold them for mockery'. 'Your name taste like iron in my mouth' I could feel the unpleasantness here. Almost like letting go, and rewiring the brain to think of this person as no longer safe. A friends knife can be sharp indeed, sharper than our wildest imagination. Nicely done, Ten 🤗❤️