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
weak
you called me
as the tears slid down my flesh
strong
i thought
to have loved one who loved me so much less
this is not a love poem
