Cold Girl
You are pretentious; I
Am naive.
I don’t love you; I love
The idea of you that
Arrests my throbbing brain.
Abuser, cheater, liar, snake.
You are rotten from the inside
Out just like me.
I buried myself six feet into the
Dewy ground where worms crawl
Through the holes that once were
Eyes, and I bang, bang against the
Coffin because I forgot I’m
Still alive.
You albatross; you burden me
With your incessant photographs
Of your precious, evolved life.
It could have been my life too.
I don’t love you...yet I do.
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