to think we were best friends this morning
and now,
i bite the back of my hand
to keep from screaming obscenities
into your ugly face.
you sit on your pedestal,
immersed in yourself,
and accuse me of immaturity
when i walk away
when you say
"i don't care
about you."
you think
that i act this way
because i am
"insecure"
"pathetic"
"sensitive"
but really,
darling,
it's because
i have realized that
i
deserve
better
than
this.