If it takes ten years for a body to decompose, I’m well past my expiration date.
There’s always been this rot
in my chest.
It gives me away;
I’m decaying, never to rest.
You’re shining gold,
you don’t know what it means to rot,
never felt it eat your heart.
I hate you’re everything I’m not.
You’ve never sobbed in the night,
begging for it to end.
How could you know how to deal with me?
I’m not even your girlfriend.