our final meeting.
Embarrassed that she dragged me here again
Vindictive because I have won our battles
multiple times in the past,
she manifests in different forms
gaslights me
confuses me
manipulates her way into my bloodstream.
She has me convinced that looking at her
is looking at a reflection of myself.
I am not my pain, I scream at her.
Cycles of hope and happiness
punctuated by the lowest of lows
I imagine myself catching her game early
grabbing a fistful of her luscious hair
and smashing her beautiful face
into the concrete ground
her diseased brain parts splattering
a piece hits me in my face, and I taste
the salt of her betrayal.
crimson blood running down the sidewalk
looking to infect the next one;
stomping my heel into her temple
not bothering to listen for her
last breath,
just enraptured at the cracking
of her skull on the pavement
knowing that her death
has freed me from my pain.