I hate the smell of cigarette smoke
because I could smell it
when I lay crying, lingerie garter shattered,
stocking ripped at the 50's seam, red wrists aching
He said he wouldn't do it again
but he wanted to **** his hate into me
I'd slam the bathroom door
and only come out when I could retreat to the safety of his Mother
Every night I'd stare at the ceiling
wishing his heart valve would fail, or he'd accidentally
overdose on his prescribed blood thinners and
I'd be lucky enough to awake to his corpse
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
I hate the smell of cigarette smoke
because I could smell it
when I lay crying, lingerie garter shattered,
stocking ripped at the 50's seam, red wrists aching
He said he wouldn't do it again
but he wanted to **** his hate into me
I'd slam the bathroom door
and only come out when I could retreat to the safety of his Mother
Every night I'd stare at the ceiling
wishing his heart valve would fail, or he'd accidentally
overdose on his prescribed blood thinners and
I'd be lucky enough to awake to his corpse
Part 1 of an ongoing poetry series about a really terrible relationship.
