I sweep the ash from the fireplace
where I burned your letter.
Pick the crumbs of our love
out of the carpet where I worshiped you.
Paint over the agony
we both spattered on these walls.
Close the door. Click the lock.
This house is done and I am gone.
It's as empty as your promises.
As empty as I was full all those lifetimes ago.
I hate you. I need you.
I f***ing hate you. God help me,
I hate you.

I turn and walk away
and I feel like I'm leaving you and I behind
instead of bare walls that will always echo.
It's been a year
since your perfidy and my idiocy
and not a day goes by
that I don't accidentally think of you
double over with the pain
with an odd look on my face
and forget how to speak.
If God is a just man He would punish you
for the rest of your miserable life
but then they tell me God is a man like you
so I'd wager you're walking high right now
while your lies keep me buried low.

Where are you now, I wonder?
But I think I know.
You're exactly where I said you'd be
and exactly where you swore you'd not.
Being right is a curse
that I would gladly sell for happiness.
Here his lungs burn him alive
and his heart beats him into a pulp
and I sink further into my mattress
praying for it to smother me.
God help me, I still love you.