cake.

the sweet taste of spite

baked in your red velvet eyes;

the sprinkles of hope

coated in pretty white lies.

a slice of perfect fantasy,

but its burnt and undercooked.

the crumbs of your words

so loud but overlooked.

caked in frosted blood,

the scent as lovely as a dream;

the oven counting down

for the taste of perfected esteem.

these layers of untruths,

hidden under icings of fear;

your words wont affect me,

if i cannot hear.