Keeping bad blood is like continuously
picking a scab. So, I heal our wounds
with words. My mouth Neosporin and a Band-Aid.
Why is there still a scar?
I fix relationships to fix myself
yet fixing ours is knocking glass off a shelf.
I harbor resentment, disdain, and shame.
I am a candle and you’ve blown out my flame.
I think about you and seethe with anger.
For nine months, you let my heart remain on a cliffhanger.
For all the pain and all the suffering,
you walk around blindly while my life is still buffering.
Your love is a food delivery app,
convenient, quick, and cold.
But even when I filled my cart,
you still demanded more.
My heart was your dessert,
a want, not a need.
You grew full bite after bite,
my livelihood taken by greed.
I rot away like an apple,
bruised, mushy, and soft.
My once hard exterior simply decor
for the lifeless woman empty to the core.
There’s no bad blood
between us, there’s no blood at all.
Because blood requires life
and you cut mine open with a knife.
You’re as dead to me as a room with a bad comedian
trying to appease a tough crowd.
Our relationship was a joke
I was the punch line.
wow
excellent!