Your nosy author speaks

She smiled with honey on her tongue,

but her heart dripped venom in silence.

Her hands held mine — soft, warm, deceiving,

while her shadow sharpened its teeth behind me.

She called me sister,

and I believed her.

Not knowing her laughter was rehearsed,

her kindness — a mask of mirrors.

She fed me dreams seasoned with poison,

kissed my wounds only to salt them later.

Her love — a theatre, her soul — a stage,

and I, the fool who thought it was friendship.

Now I sip my tea with quiet grace,

for I have learned —

not all enemies wear frowns.

Some wear my perfume,

and borrow my smile.

Such is the life if a fake friend.

Beware!