my last thoughts of you,

you beautiful nasty thing,

blend softy like clouds

they come and go,

they ebb and flow,

they hurt like you did

when you left

a belt of bruises

on my lap

and constellations

of red fingertips

on my neck

and you left

me like that

and I hate you,

truly

but still part of me,

the worst part of me,

my absolute least favorite part,

wants you

to do it again