Show Me Your Eyes

The heart of the man was cunningly wicked;
His tongue was callous and cold.
The schemes he used hurt and abused,
While his eyes were the windows to his soul.

Sweet words he twisted to suit his purpose;
Each promise was bent, then broken.
Lies he construed to sound like the truth,
While his true intent went unspoken.

Love was a game for him to win,
And hearts that were blind, he stole.
His touches felt good, so she misunderstood
That his eyes were the windows to his soul.

The woman believed the tongue of the man
Who lied of such doting affection.
She hung on the smiles that he donned all the while
That his mind sought another direction.

His lips burned with kisses that teased her inside
And bade her to fall for his lies.
Her emotions he played with the future he paved,
While his lids closed over his eyes.
He refused to show her his eyes.

I Hate Being Lied To

I hate being lied to, especially in matters of the heart. I hate when a man misrepresents himself. I hate when he tells me that he loves me when he knows he doesn't. And the words "I love you" were only used to mean "I want something from you, and I'm going to be smooth and slick to get it". 

A Lover's Lie

I should have seen the end of this,
Before I played my part.
I would have turned away the kiss
That took my heart.

I should have weighed more carefully
The words that you had spun,
And thus, this lie would certainly
Not have begun.

If I'd been careful at the start
Your cunning ploy to know,
I shouldn't have allowed my heart
To love you so.

Read more poems about love by JMariah

Trust Me

I’m standing here on this rock yelling into the wind, begging for more than just the sound of my own echo humming back to me in my loneliness.

“Trust me.” I keep hearing you say, “Trust me.” And from far deep inside me, in that somewhere that hasn’t been reached in such a very long time, tears rise. And the place where smiles once warmed me sinks desperately under water.

The hollow swishing against my ear drums repels the sounds your tongue utters as your lips cunningly form around the words again, “Trust me”, like a crocodile saying “bite me”.

And I’m trapped between the love you say you have for me and the disdain by which you keep me beyond arms length. And it must be beyond arms length, because I reach out to touch you, only to embrace empty air – empty, stale air.

And no amount of tears will drive you to take back the actions you have set in motion against me. No amount of pleading will turn your heart around. So in the heavy dark of night, I bite my lip and defy the salt that threatens to sting my eyes, close my hands tightly over my ears to shut out the only words you smile at me – as you look down from your lofty position above me, pleased with the hold you have on me – trust me.