so it is thumb tacks in your throat.
barely could breathe already
but now it’s severance
and cold, hungry rage.
•
why
all these falsehoods?
•
a spoken word is strong
against a wavering heart,
though,
I am not worth even that
am I?
•
bittersweet,
how your tongue tastes:
desperation,
coating every syllable you drawl
in neutrality and indifference,
and how could you forget?
he’ll never love you.
he never did.
•
but I did.
foolish of me,
in the end.
•
forgive?
forget.
•
2/11/19
