Ugly.

I hope you cut yourself
When you
so eloquently etched my name
On your bedpost.
If I had a heart, I suppose I could forgive you,
But you stole it away
And buried it along with all your secrets.
I tried to tell you in words
Words I wrote to you
That I had fallen for you,
That I loved you.
And in a single sentence,
You ripped all of those words
All of those stanzas
All of those verses and couplets,
Out of my soul
And flushed them out.
That's all you are now.
A poem.
An angry, heartbroken, ugly poem.
I want you to feel as lame as the excuses you gave me.
I want you to limp with their weight.
I want you as crippled as you left me.
Begging for some sort of crutch to help you close distances.
I never thought you heartless,
But now I know better.
I hope the next time you feel anything,
You hurt.
I hope tears sting your eyes
And you are blinded.
I hope you cut yourself
When you carved my name
So eloquently
Into your bedpost.
And I hope everytime you look at the scar,
You remember the girl who wanted to give you everything.
You're just a lonely, angry little poem now,
And I deserve to write better ones.