He puts me at ease.

The part that makes me so selfish, so mad..

So desolate in my emotions is that you protrude my thoughts.

He makes me so happy now.

You don’t have any right

I don’t have the right.

I’m saddened by the loss, sure.

But I’m angrier, that after everything I’ve done for you,

You put your dirty hands on me.

Called me a child,

30 times;

At least.

You sounded ridiculous.

I tried to stoop to your level, to stand my ground

Until you passed out from intoxication.

More beer in the fridge.

Your roommate said his girlfriend was uncomfortable around you,

So you came into the bedroom,

Took me by the neck,

Let the spit seep from your mouth while you slewed your vile insults,

And promised to fuck me senseless after you had “one more” smoke.

A hearty smack for good measure.

I don’t drink a lot, the whisky lulled me to sleep,

You ran out of smokes.

I’m in therapy, and painfully self aware

I know that one shouldn’t have to earn happiness.

Yet I’m so fucked up,

So riddled in trauma

That a friend said to me once

Every time you open your mouth, you tell a sad story.

I was just reminiscing.