Corpse

I bite my tongue as I read the wall of text on my phone.

Lies, lies- oh, good, a refreshing break of convoluted ideals!

I swallow against nothing, feeling the torrent of torture settle like grit,

a film on my teeth, a twinge of pain in eyelashes constantly covered with makeup.

I wonder where she thinks she gets off- but I realize it is stupid to wonder over someone with wandering eyes and ever shifting responsibility.

She dedicates songs to me I listened to in wracking sobs because of her,

tells me I manipulate all those I love into loving me, tells me I am mean and cruel,

and tops it with the crowning of the most mentally ill of our shared kind.

She knew it would land- the final blow. It is why she said it, and then tried in vain to take it back. Tells me I am good, only surrounded by enablers. That I am kind, just not to her.

I laugh. I empty my stomach contents into art. I burn it in hopes she feels the matte of ash on her fingertips- fingers that touched anyone but me. Tastes the smoke in her mouth along the spit of those she left me for.

I hollow. I rebuild. I swallow, I brush my teeth, I wash my face. All in vain to dispose of the corpse she left me with.