the architect of lies

You came with a palm full of honeyed words, Tracing the lines of my skin like a map you wanted to own. In the quiet, I was the prize you sought, The "only one," the secret you whispered alone. ​But the moment I said "No," the silver turned to lead. To keep your ego upright, you tore me down instead. You took the body you once praised with hungry eyes And fed it to the vultures, dressed in clever lies. ​Now you stand in the center of the room, Painting me as the villain of a story you’ve re-read. You mock the frame you wanted to hold, Criticizing the curves, the height, the very breath I tread. ​You twist the truth until it snaps, A performance for the crowd to see— That you didn’t want me anyway, As if hating my body makes you feel more free. ​But the audience doesn't see the ghost of your reach, The way you begged before you began to preach. You might look good in the light of the fire you started, But we both know who left the room hollow-hearted.