Who were you to look me in the eye and tell me of all the good things I've ruined?
You lick your lips in grotesque pleasure,
Claiming you love me and burning because of it.
I did not ask for your heart,
You plunged your hand into your chest and ripped it from there,
Pushed it into my hands and demanded I care for it.
How is your dying body my doing?
YOU ARE READING
Unraveling
PoetryA spill of a heart onto pages. The darkness and beauty of blood into words.
