Knives and Care

I viewed you a friend,
but you were choosing the best-fitted knife —
hidden with care in your cruel hand,
waiting for its time to land in my spine.

What I saw a smile was a beastly snarl;
when I celebrated, you dragged me down.
You laughed not with me, but at me —
you are poison ivy sucking life from my tree.

Your compliments all had ulterior motives;
the things I trusted you with turned into gossip.
I viewed you a friend — you were hiding a knife.
Have some decency:
Stab me but look in my eyes.