Bittersweet

• Lock

You were never my oxygen,
But you used to say how beautiful my hands looked when holding a cigarette and therefore I used to keep my nails painted black.
You were never cocaine to me,
But when you told me how much you loved my white dress I made it my favourite.
But my favourite, you were.
And I knew I could live without you. It was always my choice to keep your plate in the table and even when you left-

when you left i sat in the shower and cried and punched and kept the plate above the table.

Until the night I smashed it against the wall.
and, oh well I indeed made a mess.
There were 3 years of glass shattered in the floor and for 3 weeks I constantly stepped and bleed above it.

What right do you have to come back?
To say you still love my hands even though I started chewing on my nails,
To say you loved my white dress but you love even more my new yellow one.

The place in my heart that once belonged to you, is no longer yours.
You never kept it tidy and you never knew where to keep your keys.
And, therefore, you lost them
and I always gave you too many copies,
for you to come and water the plants, but you never did.
You'd come and fill this house with smoke and I cannot tell you how tired I am of being burned down.
This was once your home but I'm happy to tell you I changed the lock.