Your shower,
can't block out your ****** British vinyl.

I know I should be telling you
what it all meant to a broken girl,
on a winter morning.

But I can't seem to force the words from my mouth.

Finger nails chewed to the wick,
all attempt at self preservation abandoned,
woken early by an aching heart.


There's a void.
Where your snarling words,
and constant reminders of past insecurities,
should be cutting me to pieces.

But all I feel,
is the relief of your absence.