you loved me more,
but i came to you
screeching
the flaws you own
with the scarlett letter
on your forehead
every other night
over your addiction
and that entire year
of your life you
couldn't remember.
you don't think i know you,
maybe i don't
but there's a grave
in my belly filled with
pretty little words
you spit at me when
i was weak,
that keeps shrinking
and shrinking
until there is nothing
left of me for you to
miss.

my eyes are now
greyer than they are green
and look, love, my ribs
are starting to show,
and before you ask,
i haven't lived with myself
in a very long time.