Insensitivity.

I’m in pain,

I’m in torment.

I hate that you took my freedom,

With one comment.

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Irate.

A sweet gentleman you could’ve been,

Then you said you need to drink.

Beer, whisky, vodka and gin,

There wasn’t a night you weren’t pink.

For each night I craved your kiss,

But all I got were your fists.

I have befriended a thousand glass shards,

When they pierced right through my heart.

Angered,

You tore down the wall,

Humored,

You sang through the hall.

The rage in you I always feared,

You were nonchalant when I teared.

Indirect.

“I’m broken inside can’t you see?
Will you stop doing this to me?”

He said in an exaggerated scowl, bloodshot eyes.

“Don’t look back in anger,” he heard her say.

He lit his cigarette, thirteenth in the hour, and threw the lighter she bought for him – at her.

It ruptured at her feet. So did their love.

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