Onto my fertile ground,
He sowed,
His seeds of addiction.

Into my purest thoughts,
He fed me,
Rotting doubt.

Under my nose,
He slipped me,
Poison for roses.

And I believed him,
I believed, I believed.
But he lied.
And so it is,
I died.

©Genevieve Hoskey
 May, 2008
All rights reserved