I remember waking up with him. No make-up, just sunlight entering his room through the window pane.

Wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, swamping my size 8 frame.

As far as I was concerned, I needed a shower, Ghd’s and my make up bag.

As far as he was concerned I was beautiful- and anything he said I guess to me was the truth.

Its strange how someone who had once made you feel beautiful, can also have the power to make you feel so ugly.


Shaking I threw his phone at him. His brick of lies.


I crawled into bed pulling the covers up over my body.

And then his hands came, poking –clenching – finding

While my tears came, choking-drenching-blinding.

I lit a cigarette, thinking, thinking smoking.

Inhaling him.

Exhaling her.

And then stubbing out not just the spark of the cancer stick,

But stubbing out us. Out them. Out him.

Dirty ash.

With me he saw scars.

With her he saw stars.

He used to make my heart skip,

Today he’s made my tears drip,

And selfishly watched their trail slip

Down my ugly little face.

The End

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