You are poison, in a way I can’t believe I fell for,
You’d think I’d learn, after fooling myself into thinking,
a demon was a snowy angel.
You’d think I’d be more careful with a heart ripped apart by past,
uncaring friendships and torn up from unkindness, and stitched back
together with the string of my yellow resilience.
I thought I saw you clearly, I knew enough to be weary,
a little nervous of you and your flinty eyes.
You said such lovely things, that made me feel seen and valued and when you touched my skin,
it felt safe like the way friends should be.
Yet now, you look unkind and hollow,
like the monster you tried to hide has crawled out of your soul,
and is breathing behind your flesh and looking with your eyes.
Don’t think that I am glass in your hands,
I’m hurt but I think you are too, not because you care about me,
or anyone for that matter.
But people will always flock to you,
to your sharp intelligence and beautiful, false words,
and then flee from you when they realise how cruel,
and selfish you are.
And that will hurt you someday, we’re not meant to die alone,
not even you with your rudimentary cleverness and wit.
Do you think by proclaiming yourself heartless,
it makes your actions okay?
By crowing out “morals are subjective”
gives you some sort of license to cause pain?
You’ve hurt people I love and I want to rip you apart and
that tears me up because we were close, I would have torn people up for
Yet now you’ve forced me into a place where I am showing you my teeth.
The real, pain pumping fleshy heart of it all that kills me,
is that I know you really don’t care, I know you don’t care about the loss of our friendship or the hurt you’ve caused or the anger I feel.
I hate that you’re walking around, un-bothered by your devastation, the tail of your hurricane of emotional damage.
I hate that I want to claw open your chest to see if you even have a heart inside,
but I hope I don’t find one, if you have none I can understand the ravaging cruelty
of you. But, if I find a heart in the cage of your ribs I will have to crush it.
For the world is in danger of a monster who can cause the pain you do,
and still have a beating heart driving him forward.
I know you won’t read this, but if you ever did,
I want you to know that I’m not writing this because I loved you,
I’m not writing this because you’re some sort of enigmatic creature, of complex emotions and beautifully tragic eyes,
who had my heart in his hands.
I’m not even writing this to make myself feel better.
I am writing this because I will look back and see my words here,
riven with crimson anger and the yellow petals of my strength,
and I will remember you and what you were.
And I will know never to let a selfish brat like you,
anywhere near me or mine, ever again.
Because you are poison and you never deserved my friendship,
and I certainly didn’t deserve yours.