In the silence of our room, I hold your phone, a sacred tomb,
I scroll through secrets, seeking signs,
imagining the lies between the lines.
Every time you’re minutes late,
my mind conjures up a traitor’s fate.
I say I trust you, but I’m waging war,
with phantoms from a lover’s lore.
I see his shadow when I close my eyes,
haunted by the echoes of my own despised lies.
I’ve accused you, then I’ve begged you stay,
lost between the love and the disarray.
Your laugh, once music to my ears,
now a siren song that stokes my fears.
Each smile you share, each touch you give,
twists into the life I can’t believe you live.
With every “sorry” that slips through my teeth,
I’m shackling your heart, but I can’t release.
I follow you with desperate eyes,
crafting truths from each imagined lie.
In every corner of this twisted play,
I’m Othello to your Desdemona, lost and led astray.
Apologies that never heal,
the wounds of love that I reveal.
In this theater of jealousy,
I am bound by the specter, never free.