The only thing
harder than my pain
is how I press the letters
writing messages
to you that
I will delete,
unsent.

I wish I was heart-broken
Sad, let-down, hurt.

But what you've done
is grind this heart of mine
to a fine black powder,
and dust
doesn't pump.

And I'm sick
So sick
I'm vomiting up
black powder
and soon, hopefully,
this stupid aching heart,
will die.

How did it feel to watch me,
trusting you,
oblivious
to all your crimes
against us?

You proved everyone right.

You proved me wrong.

A cunning girl
who knew how
to get exactly
what she wanted
at the time.

What the **** else do you
want me to say about it?

If I cry enough tears
would they please,
kindly drown me
in my sleep?

The cold
shivered shoulder
of a girl
mocha-skinned
who promised you the world,
but when you couldn't keep up,
she gave up.

All the dreams
of this being true,
that you swore never would be,
are broken picture frames
in the mirror-mask of my heart.