I don’t love your pretty anymore
I wretch up chunks of ***** on the floor
Walk through it in bare feet
with a train that trails behind and
drags your lies through them

I scald contaminated conscience thin
to try and keep your spores from getting in,
and suffocate myself with fragrant soap
to wash away my hate with pope on rope

Above all this strong sickening disdain?
I’d **** myself to see you once again

Written by Sara Fielder © Nov 2012