broken hearted in november

He said he loved me.

But what did he really mean?

He meant he just wanted to feel something-

and he was guilty.


He always assumed I was stupid, that I was some kind of fool.

But I have enough melted brain to analyze your alphabet soup bullshit.

You want to mix it up right when I get the chance to read-

and still say that you love me.


I see right through your transparent skin and glass bones.

Fuck you and every little love song.

I don’t have anything else to say to you really.

I’m glad I gave you that feeling.


But what about me?

What’d I get out of this cobweb of lies?

I got lots of cuddling and kissing.

But the thought of your touch, though it drags me back, makes my skin crawl.


Tears never really dry, I’ll let you in on that secret.

Tell me, babe. If you look hard enough, can you still see them?

The bruises on my neck never faded and my mouth still tastes your venom.

I’m going to take every plastic rose from every store, and somehow manage to kill them.


You were cheating. Cheating!

Of all bloody things!

Even when you’re caught, you tried to play off my “stupidity”.

And make me beg for forgiveness on my knees-


as if I did something wrong, my God.

Did you think you had me all wrapped up around that broken, pinky promise finger?

With your body’s warmth secretly being a gasoline heater-

that would soon burn me up in my sleep?


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