And more and more, your kisses are tasting less fulfilling and pure.

You are kissing me, and suddenly I feel like a child on Halloween night.

I am eating sweet after sweet and the chocolates stick to the roof of my mouth and the sweetness turns sickly and I feel like my mouth is drowning in the taste but you wont stop forcing them into my mouth.

Your loving caress becomes less out of love, and more like a child grabbing ceaselessly at a toy it can’t have.

Where your thumb runs down my arm it leaves a trail of mud, where your fingernails dig into my back— it tears at the skin and maggots run out of me.

You make me feel rotten and dirty.

We once held each other in intimacy but now you come at me and you’re looking at me as if I’m something to eat.

It’s as if you’re a young boy stuffing his mouth with chocolate cake. It drips down your face and your hands are covered with the muddy brown frosting, but you cannot stop eating up my hopes and dreams and purity, you will never be full.

You never stopped consuming me.

Our love caught on fire and burned me—

it disintegrated my flesh,  and now it’s so charred it is falling off—I am no longer beautiful—I am burned and my clothes are covered in soot.

My hair is singed and my face is disfigured and I am lying on the floor of this burning house that once was our relationship and I can’t even find the oxygen in my lungs to utter past my dry cracked lips:

“I am angry with you.”


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