There’s A Storm Coming

Your love has torn it, made mine irrelevant.
I’m tearing myself away from you,
your scarifying mitts
and eight millimeter eyes.
Your syringe tongue
that injected hydrochloric acid
and orange haze into me,
cauterising every cell,
one
by
one.

I would have walked away from
the world together with you.
You fooled me into staying
and then you slipped away.
So this, I choose, will be the end,
but not of me, only of
you.

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