Ode to my piggish ex-boyfriend
You made the first cut, and you caused the last.
When I’d wait for the phone call that never came.
I’d pray, on my knees with my sleeves rolled up
to any deity that would listen.
None did, I waited and odder you were,
You lit the fire, and watched the flames squirm.
How painful it was to be inside my head,
with these thoughts that whirled inside.
I sit here some days, and I wish you dead.
Stiff as a board, crawling with rot.
I imagine the maggots that slip down your throat,
and eat away at your voice.
Perhaps I should kill you myself.
I do wonder if I have the skill.
My psyche is screwed, I envision you led,
In a park somewhere, fleshless and black.
I dream sometimes of carving you up,
and frying your brains with warm butter.
I’d become my own Hannibal, and consume the rude
And of course, I’d be starting with you.
You made the first cut, and you caused the last,
when the phone call then came and you left me.
I’d worry about how you sleep at night, dear,
When I sit here and I plan your death.
