Miss me Yet?

The letters,

they're burned.

Scorched and engulfed

by the flames of hate and grief.

 

Your touch has

long since left me and

my conscience, along with

your smile into my lost soul.

 

The sand we lightly

touched lays scattered

and windswept, forgotten

in time, along with our love.

 

Every meeting of our lips

has been scraped from me

with the sharp, cutting edge of

grief, never again to return to me.

 

And when things die,

 

things are born.

 

Every touch to another

man makes me laugh with revenge,

of how you once claimed me but have

lost everything... Miss me yet, b***h??

 

And their letters touch

me, bring tears to my eyes

like yours once did but now are

futile, empty, forgotten, and erased :)

And I no longer touch the sand,

I stomp and I tattoo my path into this

horrible, saddening Earth, just to prove

your dumb a*s wrong.

I think of your lips-

And I cringe. I hate them.

How they touched and car-

essed me in every way possible...

So with the death of our

love,

my festering hate was

borne. 

Reviews

[Sasha]

This is a good love turned to hate poem. Your words were sharp and down to earth. I lol'd a little at "miss me b***h" and "your dumb a*s". I can definitely tell there's some bad blood here. My favorite lines were, "And when things die, things are born." Short, but very telling and kinda ominous. Very nice.