Lament of the Scorned

I am your Jezebel,
The curse you spit out
Along with the blood red
Juice of betel that
Oozes from corners
Of lips that formerly
Caressed, cajoled, captivated
With truths uttered unawares
By the same lips
Now denied.
I am Delilah,
Your downfall.
I am your drug,
Your shame,
Your reluctant high.
I am the discarded,
The one you stone
With relief
And
Some guilt.