you only said you loved me
when you were lonely;

you were scared of
feeling even a tinge of loneliness circulating inside your body
so you impulsively go out
during late nights
to search for love
in befuddled men.

you only said you hated me
when you were inebriated;

you were scared of
feeling even an ounce of happiness
surging through your veins
so you look at yourself
in front of the shattered mirror,
who pitied you
for ululating constantly.

your flagrant atrophy
shouts your
malapropos name
across the hearts
worn on every sleeve.