While You Were Dying, My Cup Was Brewing

While You Were Dying, My Cup Was Brewing ~

I don't like you,
I wanted the other guy, just so you know,
Why didn't you leave me?
Feeling drunk,
Loser man, you make me angry,
Why did you come here, and waste away my time after all?
I push my palms out and,
Shove them into your big chest,
Coffee's cold at the brink of,
Moment we almost shared . . .
Damn, I spilt it,
Onto your pants, as to,
Find the perfect kind of tattoo, where I could,
Drop my cigarette ash.

I watched as it put out the flame,
Because tonight I was in a mood (you should have watched)
And marked out a little black spot . . .
Which circled around your pant-splotch,
Making a curious little dash,
Which quickly ran up the seam of the inner thigh.
I,
Smiled a wicked gleam as you turned your back,
Because I watched you burn,
A minute before you pulled your trousers off and,
Saw it, as you went,
Down into a mass of little black ashes,
And waving arms of spiraling smoke,
The entire show was,
Extremely satisfying to me.

I put out the light, and,
Finally put out the rest of the,
Slowly dying cigarette,
Looked down into the ash and,
frowned, slightly,
I left the Keurig machine on, all this time,
While you were dying, my cup . . .
Was brewing.