The Con Artist

She had a string of rope

tied up around his neck

and she would pull the string tighter whenever

she was afraid


likes to play the lonely, wounded widow in distress

she has been fooling men for years

spinning her manipulative webs


I saw the con artist in her

when I saw her face

the mask she wears can be appealing

it can entice with false pretence

but not what’s underneath


this lacklustre and insipid siren

her song is monotonous to my ears

demeaned in my eyes

a pale comparison to my love for you

I recoil at the mere sight of her


her lies, the greed, the manipulation

leave a certain mark

she brings her skies of gloom upon us

her garden is never green


for he didn’t know what she truly was

until one day she bit him

and he felt her sting


this other woman I despise

her very presence darkens my days

for she wants

what she can’t have

she doesn’t know

it’s my name

that is engraved

upon his heart.


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