The Floor

You left me wounded, sobbing and all by myself here.
Nothing left but cheeks marred by dried-up tears.
I am damaged and bruised...fucking suicidal.
I'm not sure what I did, but like you said, it is all my fault.
Broken and bloody is my skin.
It's scabbing up where my nails are digging in.
My pulse is hammering relentlessly into my temples. Crazy how you made leaving me so God damn simple.
Stabbing pain shoots through my chest into the pit where my heart used to beat, used to rest.
Emotionally battered and beaten, left to decay on this cold, dank, damp floor.
I saw you glaring in my direction as you strolled victoriously out the door.
I am feverish and festering succumbing to the aftermath of your infection.
Huddled in the corner...tight in a ball.
I should have known you would love to watch me fall.
Ice lives cold behind my eyes, knees pressed together and my face is buried in my thighs.
I need a bed, something clean to lie myself upon.
A warm place to clear my head of the million ways you broke me and did me wrong.
Happy to leave me on this godforsaken, cold assed floor.
You cut me down until I was no one...until I was nothing anymore.
A satisfied smile slid across your face.
You showed me; you put me in my place.
I am left here dying...all used up... without a fucking prayer.
Numb, shattered, decomposing... you killed me and didn't even care.

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