Half Emptier

I had dirt and sex underneath my fingernails,

but still there was something missing

maybe because we burned everything down,

you were quite the pyromaniac and I didn't want to be your enthusiast,

but you didn't take no for an answer and I ashamedly continued to be a pushover

Often, I would put myself to sleep,

so that I didn't have to be intoxicated by the scent of loneliness

It was palpable,

and it was something tangible, when I didn't want it to be

but I taught you how to vomit,

and you were too thick

too thick to know that I only had those smarts because of what I thought of you

For dessert,

I took your books and I took my scissors,

and I cut out all the passages that meant something to you

and then I set them ablaze in a fireplace that belonged to a stranger

And so now we were even,

we had wiped clean our questionable palates

and my eyes were no longer bigger than my stomach---