You tried to **** me once in the most cliché of ways. Tearing my heart out in the attempts of bleeding me dry.
Like this is the "new" Coup de Graš.
As if you thought of this one on your own.
... How sweet

I will admit, for a moment, you caught me coughing up blood and bits of bitterness. After all, you did try to write me out, and in the least creative way.
I should have seen this coming.
I could have narrated.
... How foolish.

So it must've been no surprise when you came back at me with those thighs, I meant eyes, that I premeditated a demise...
A rhyme...
For you...
... How clever.

I hollowed out my chest leaving nothing but a cadaver. You extended yourself to no end. Burrowing inside what you thought was alive.
Something you loved when I'd do.
Something you could chew on.
... How explicit.

Self-destruction was my final task, an easy one and I do owe that to you. You and me now built as one I came crumbling down on top of you.
Rubble carries heavy weight.
Sticks and stone.
....

Born again from pain and ash I left the pile of blood and debris known as you. I never meant break and bleed you, I only meant bury you alive.
I'm cold and hallow.
I'm ruined in this manner.
I'm a better person, now.
... Thank you.