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Nasty

Updated on July 1, 2014

Nasty.
The word echoes
in my brain
and ricochets
through my body
spreading like
a disease.

Nasty.
It eats away
at my self-confidence
and devours
every good thought
I ever
had.

Nasty.
It contradicts
the words you whispered
about everything
I was scared
about.
And now I'm
scared again
because everything
you said
was a lie.

Nasty.
That's what you
called me
And now
I can't get
the word
out of my
skin.
It's written
all over my
body.
It runs
down my
cheeks
as tears
and escapes
my lips
as smoke.
It invades
my memories
of how we used to be.

Nasty.
That's how I feel
but mostly I feel
like the discarded scribbles
on a crumpled up piece of paper.
I feel like the rust on a once
shiny statue.
I feel like the faded grape smoke
floating away from your lips.
I feel like the remnants
of a heart attack.
I feel uncomfortable
in my own skin
because of you.
And I hate you
for what you
make me feel.

Nasty.

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