drunk butterfly

The lies you told fell far from my heart
I used to see them sitting in my lap, begging their way back in.
And then your words
They came creeping back into the pockets of my green corduroy jacket
Always the green one —
Your favourite.
Like that morning after the terrible fight we had had
Your little heart drawn on parchment with an arrow piercing through
Some would call that love
I only saw the wound it left —
How carefully you placed the spear just to puncture the appropriate part of me.
Those notes kept reappearing
Day after day
Years after you had exited my life
After I had exiled myself from yours.
I gave you your city
And came crawling back to mine.
I finally had to give away the jacket,
The presence of parchment in pockets had become unbearable —
Not only had you branded my heart
I found it hard to function when my clothes were victims too.
My triumphant return years later took you by surprise
By then you had public opinion in your favour
You had spent my absent years well;
Your gifted marketing campaign.
You tried to post your notes to me
Not realizing what I had done
The jacket was gone
And I had my life back.