Thoughts by Me
I'll never tell you my secrets.
Like how you make me f***ing scared.
I was finally at a place in my life where I could say I was
happy.
But once
again you began reminiscing about the taste of satisfaction.
How you had physically torn me apart, limb by limb.
How you had charred every layer of feeling and created
dishes-appetizers, entrees, desserts- and served them to my
closest friends.
Because nothing is more entertaining then watching someone become
devoured whole.
And I was too enveloped in a false sense of guilt created from
your selfish need.
I believe the words you had said were, "It's her, or
me."
And if my memory serves me correctly, I believe I heard you
laughing.
You'll never be satisfied enough, but that wasn't the
question.
How many times can you spit me back up and swallow me hole
again,
Before there's nothing left?