i remember when you
told me how much i
Meant to you.
how i made you Flourish
and bubble with glee.

my face constantly contorted
with pain and love
that made me stay longer
than i probably should have.
festering until my heart spoiled
and stank like milk
left in a fridge that had stopped
working long ago.

and yet still.
i am attached to you in an aftermath
that leaves me to pick up the pieces
you left of me
once again.
attached like some sick
umbilical cord that refuses to rip
me from your hold.

but how much do i truly Mean to you
if i am merely just
a crumpled up glove box napkin
used to wipe my blood off your lips?

you are free
to walk with your hands covered in
my blood
and yet nobody sees it
but Me.

left in a pool
of red iron spilling
from me
and salted tears
that stick to my face.