An edible arrangement of words.

Skewered with a stick and dipped in a delectable sauce of lies

Losing all natural substance and leaving nothing

But the joy of a glutton for such delicacies as I

And his own arrangements taste still lingers behind my lips

Dancing on my tongue into oblivion

For I gobble up his lies just as all the sorry souls before me had as well

But my heart is filled to the brim

Soon this previously empty bucket shall be empty once more

As all emotion is dumped into a bottomless well

Where those who need it more than I can feast

If not soon it shall burst and I will be left

With a balloon of sorts now run out of helium

Sinking to the bottom never to float until refilled

And I am perfectly fine with that