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Your affection, once a saccharine dream, gradually revealed its acrid truth.
Your confectionery deceptions ensnared me, words of love as alluring as they
were hollow, whispered by lips that sculpted beauty itself. You spun yarns of
everlasting bliss, yet what I consumed was the apple of deceit—its venom lulled
me into a stupor. I wandered, somnambulant, through the fantasy you crafted,
blind to the folly of surrendering my essence to you, relinquishing my
autonomy.
To envision you as my savior, the prince destined to break the spell with a
mere kiss—how misguided I was. Instead, you were the puppeteer, twirling the
spindle, observing as I plummeted repeatedly into the abyss. Was it my own
naivety, offering my heart to a phantom clad in sweet falsehoods? The
chocolate-coated lies, oh how delectable they seemed. I confess, they were a
delight to the senses. Yet, the stark reality remains: you were but a mirage, a
figment far removed from the idol I had conjured in my mind’s eye.
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