I miss you
And you make me sick
Your eyes, which used to bring me butterflies
Now make me nauseous
And I could spend hours dry heaving
Just to make sure I've choked up every last bit of you
Your smile
Has yellowed from the lies you told
There is deceit on your lips
And all the brushing in the world
Can't hide the smell of the crap you made me swallow
Your hands
Which promised to cradle me heart
Squeezed a bit too hard
And left ***** fingerprints on the broken pieces
My own little jagged jigsaw
And as much as I would love to say "*******!" and let this end
I can still remember the smell of your soap in my skin
And the feeling of your hand in mine
And the first time
You
And I
Became us
But my rage won't allow me to cry
On the outside.
You cannot bury what is not dead
So instead I'll put our love on a shelf
And leave it there
Never to be touched
Years will pass
Dust and time will ***** the glass
And all of the delicate dysfunctional intricacies of our love will be forgotten
And in it's own way
Up on that shelf
Our love will finally be beautiful.