rather than take a seat
i fell, broken – dejectedly – and at your feet
when you crippled my heart
with your callous, cruel words

and tore it to fine shreds and rough, jagged little pieces

in truth you may as well have shat upon it
with warm, soft, rank feces

this is not a love poem

you stood over my hollow form
sneering down upon it
with a hideous look of scorn

you called me
as the tears slid down my flesh

i thought
to have loved one who loved me so much less

this is not a love poem

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