Killing every last little everything

There’s too much creamer in my coffee,
Of course that’s how she’d make it.
She never knew me in the past and
Has no clue as the years have passed.
Thinks she could use me like a toy
And that I wouldn’t know.
I’ve got a secret for you, woman,
I think I’ll stay instead of go.
I’ve got absolutely nothing and
You think you’ve got it all.
I’ll wrap my fingers round your throat
And pin you to the wall.
But I’ll wait a little longer,
A few more nasty cups of Joe.
I’ll bide my time with eyes empty
And more sugared rounds of blow.
You’ll never see the metal glint
The moment you get stabbed
‘Cause every time we mercy fuck
You insist I see your back.


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Filed under poem, poetry, ptsd

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