When I think about you,
it doesn't give me butterflies like it used to.
Instead I feel like I swallowed a dozen knives.
Looking through old photographs of us used to bring a smile to my face,
Now I get nauseous.
I once thought I would grow old with you
But the thought of you now makes me cringe.
I gave you my trust
And you tore me apart, bit by bit.
My eyes avoid all the reminisce and fingerprints you left in my home and on my skin.
I have tried to purge you out of my head
because the thought of you makes me disgusted
But its difficult.
You spread yourself thinly through all of my favorite things.
The only thing you never touched was my poetry.