This is the harsh truth, I’ll sugarcoat it none

Games of luck and games of chance
Flying a kite on a warm summer’s day
Are wonderful, stress-free pastimes
Those childhood modes of play.
But do not think to tinker with my heart
To take it apart and wait until I erect it again
Do not mistake an emphatic “NO” for a start
And resume those cruelest forms of trickery.
That façade that proclaims kindness is false
That smile only searches for a new toy to break
Like a self-deluded hero
You mistake a friend as a vampire to stake.
And though I loved you, and showed myself true
I love myself more, than to be treated so by you.

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Late Love

I, who was born to meet you
May have been given to the world too early
For I catch myself sitting on the park benches alone
On the edge as if leaving a space for you to fill
Quietly daydreaming of strolling
Through the silent places
Your breath a steady exhale
I can only do my best to live a gracious life
So I can meet you in the next
My head held high