i wrote a poem just for you.
i am spilling over with hate.
spitting the words out
through mouthfuls of blood.
you are dinner plates shattered across the bedroom floor
burned blossoms of yesterday
sad sleepless nights
and an unfortunate memory.
i see the paint across your mouth,
trying to cover all of your scars.
grief tied itself around your neck
tightening every day
as it creeps
across
your
skin.
those thousands of hearts howling at night...none are for you..
ripped flesh--ribs pried open--heart crushed
remember this
when your wounds stop hurting
you shouldn't fall in love.
stay lonely.
your aches i no longer want to accommodate.
your voice at the back of my head,
whispering, "how could you?"
easily,
"fuck you."
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