Until the rains came
I was lying awake on your floor
wishing you ill
Hoping you would burn in hell
this Guy Fawkes night
for all the emails you flung at me
rubbing my battered face in my misery
with your newfound love
Sleepless
Upsetting apple carts
so carefully stacked
with every innocent fruit, good from the start
not a bad one among them
Now, strewn and bruised on grass, footpaths, rolled into gutters.
exhausted and seeking shelter
just the rot
at my core
that you grew
so sick of tasting
every time
you took a bite