Bench Side Throne

Do you think of me?

While she is wrapped inside your intoxicating embrace.

Does she know?

Know that I was the only one, you ever really loved.

It’s a cut so deep.

You gave her the wedding, promised to me.

Wound Festering, rapidly.

She sits in my place, beside your bench side throne.

I gave you me.

In return you left , claimed I had betrayed thee.

How can you?

Tracing her perfectly smooth, warm flesh.

She is marked yours.

Your fingers never to caress me again.

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