Cold Girl

You are pretentious; I Am naive. I don’t love you; I love The idea of you that Arrests my throbbing brain. Abuser, cheater, liar, snake. You are rotten from the inside Out just like me. I buried myself six feet into the Dewy ground where worms crawl Through the holes that once were Eyes, and I bang, bang against the Coffin because I forgot I’m Still alive. You albatross; you burden me With your incessant photographs Of your precious, evolved life. It could have been my life too. I don’t love you...yet I do.