These days, I could care ever less if the sky fell,
or if I got hit by a meteorite,
or by a speeding car
with you behind the wheel.

I don't understand. I can't grasp the concept of
why you left, why you no longer think I even exist.
Now, it's as if I'm less than the smoke you breathe in,
less than the wind that passes through your hair.  

I would've taken all of your roughness
to the teeth, I would have swallowed
your every ***** fantasy and bad thought,
down to the hard, prickly rind and rough shell,
and still I would have wanted more.

I would have taken it all:
every verbal slap
every rough kiss
every emotional breakdown
every "I don't feel good enough"
every ******* way you ever ****** me off...
and every "I love you, babygirl."

******* you, I love you.

Ironic, isn't it?