Your Elegy

Slam poetry, concerning and abusive relationship where the victim feels the loss of what might have been bad for her, but a person she truly loved.

You wear your title like a scar, 

Boyfriend. 

Like handcuffs cutting off your circulation. 

Despise them, unless they enhance your penetration. 

I wear my title like a crown, 

Girlfriend, 

Balanced perfectly on my mess of brown. 

While I walk a tightrope that wobbles with your words. 

I wear my scars like a title,  

Labeled. 

A mixed concoction with two parts left behind, lined with tears, 

Signed with wine. 

 You wear your scars like a crown, 

Proud. 

Look I survived this mess I was blessed with. 

You're mad. 

I'm sorry. 

You're sorry. 

I'm mad. 

You're mad. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sad. 

You're mad. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm high. 

You're mad.

I'm sober. 

I'm sorry. 

You're gone. 

I'm sorry. 

You're with her. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm angry. 

I'm lonely. 

I love you. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry.