in sickness and in health.

by .me.

sick and angry.

not actually sick,

but feel it. the bile, the hatred

of all the misrepresented, placating bullshit

you laid upon my pillow.

You said this, but you felt that

and then blamed me for you feeling that

when I thought you felt this.

You had every chance to speak your truth.

Tired of fighting?

yeah – me too.

But half the time you were fighting yourself, fighting against the lies you told me.

Because not once did you raise your voice, provide a counter-argument..

Pissed at me, ok. I acknowledge that.

But now I’m fucking pissed at you.

The first step – Acknowledge you have a problem.

Tick.

I even acknowledge my words don’t always live up to my actions.

Oh, I fucked up in a few ways, but I never lied.

But action I’ve started, was hoping you’d help me through it.

Help me grow to again become the person I am meant to be.

But no.

I thought I had mountains, I’m making them into molehills.

Your eyes say “You’re delusional. They’re mountains, and I’m outta here.

You’re not worth it.”

pfft – you don’t have my back.  what a load of codswallop.

I’m in the ring, bloody, bruised, but with a ever growing flicker of a come-back

and where are you?

You didn’t tell me how you felt, you let the disgust well up inside you,

didn’t explain, didn’t put your foot down, you never stood up and took me on face to face.

pussy.

You just let me cruise all the way off the edge of the pier without one warning. Sat back and watched.

And then blamed me for going into the water.

So right now.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

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