Draw the doorlatch, turn the key;
Stay in your tower, but not with me.
Shake free to pull the chains in tight;
Store tainted objects out of sight.
Wipe clean the traces I have left
As I lie prone, exiled, bereft.

My sickly scent shall still seep through
Cracked window frames, to chasten you;
The odour of humanity
Will swirl with sugar in your tea.
Ants will trail through, borne on their feet,
My broken matter from the street.

I cannot live for your fine ease;
I cannot die from your disease.
Unloved yet loving. Cast aside.
You promised me your heart. You lied.