You didn't love me.
You just liked how I opened my legs
and bit your name in the dark.
You called me a dream
but only came when I moaned.
You kissed my thighs, not my thoughts.
And when I bled desire — you disappeared.

I was soft.
Too soft.
I wanted to carry your child —
like a stupid, pretty curse.

Now?
You’re just another Tuesday fuck
that silence turned sacred.

I don’t cry anymore.
I rot beautifully.