My cigarette seems
to be lasting forever.
Or maybe, it’s my ninth
******* one.
Honestly,
I don’t even ******* know
anymore.

All I know
is that you said you loved me
and didn’t ******* mean it.
You said you loved me
and went on to ‘love’
someone else.
So **** quickly too.

I sit here day and night.
My eyes bloodshot from staring
at a computer screen
because everything else
in this hell hole of a room
reminds me of you.

The dreamcatcher you painted on my wall.
It’s still there.
I ******* hate it,
but can’t seem to paint over it.

I found a pair of your
******* socks
under the couch.
You’re everywhere and
I ******* hate it.

You ruined me,
and you show no remorse.
You killed me,
and got away with ******.

I gave my all
for nothing in return.

Best part is knowing now,
that you’re miserable.

And as miserable as I
may seem.
I’m content.
I’m relaxed.
And as hard as it may be
to say,
I’m happier now.
What I hate about it,
is that you made me this way.