double-edged

I have blood shot eyes, red of same.
tears are falling out and words are quietly dying on my lips.

I'm ashame to have liked a man that I had invented for myself.
I dreamed a prince that did not exist.

On its words double-edged, I stabbed my soul of a certainty:
Even if I touch the skin of a man, he will not lend me his heart.

The feeling assassin of the beautiful look behind which nobody is interested to see.

I have at the far end of my throat, a stifled cry of refused love and the heavy stomach of the repetitive speeches of the un-attached lovers.