I guess I wasn’t that mad while you were inside of me, huh?
I wanted to tell you how much I can’t stand you,
but I was silenced by your stroke.
You come to me with a full mouth and empty hands,
but I am so smitten by the words you orchestrate,
that I overlook what you refuse to offer.
You and I both know we have an expiration date;
one that I have to make myself.
I’ve rescheduled this depart way too many times.
We should’ve ended already,
but it’s not that hard to tell,
that I’m in love with your heaven,
and I’m in love with your hell.
Poet: Stefanie Parrott