Bittersweet

And I don't know if you were trying,
to shove a grenade down my throat
after letting me taste the sweet flavor
of your passion.
Shoving ashes and embers
against my tongue,
after I had felt yours.
And it's like I had given you all
of the peace and all of the passion,
I could fit in the palms of your hands,
And in return, you gave me
a dead bird who used to sing to me.
And that dead bird now lays
on my tongue,
as I wait for it to rot away and let the after taste
slowly fade so I can forget
the lies it had sang.