I inhaled bits and pieces
of your white god today.
She told me she wasn't ready
to get serious, but I insisted
that she stay.

I never have been good at dealing
with being alone, and things just
don't feel the same
when I fuck
without you.

Her voice was always a little
too condescending for my taste.
I watched her etch lines of creed
into her skin for 7 years, and
never once did I wonder why.

Maybe I was selfish, but
when she kissed me
her lips seemed to
melt with my apathy.

I'm actually quite fond of your
epiphanies, sliding through my lips
and into oblivion.

She insisted that by way
of Jesus and his magic pills,
I would someday
be rid of my sins.

I tried to tell her that
there really is no cure
for being a narcissistic bitch,
but she never cared to listen
to my bullshit.

It sure is lonely here without
your icy fingers sleeping between
my thighs. I know I sound a little
demanding, but sometimes I wish
I wouldn't have to constantly be
here to catch you.