my last thoughts of you,
you beautiful nasty thing,
blend softy like clouds
they come and go,
they ebb and flow,
they hurt like you did
when you left
a belt of bruises
on my lap
and constellations
of red fingertips
on my neck
and you left
me like that
and I hate you,
truly
but still part of me,
the worst part of me,
my absolute least favorite part,
wants you
to do it again
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