A poem

Taking my trust
you slowly eroded it
until I did not believe a word
your mouth uttered

You smashed me on evil
and deceit, changing me
maybe I’m wiser
but I’m cynical too

That is new to me
cynicism was not mine
but your forked tongue
stole my generosity

Trust, so fragile
means nothing to you

only stealing, using,
deceit and false promises

Yours is an underworld
I refuse to condone it

Published in The Lark

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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