You drink me like you drink your regrets, swallowing fire until you can't even taste yourselfMature

"I love you"
he said,
in the dead of night
with the moon overhead
placating his pain
with more alcohol
than blood
in his system.
"I love you"
were the words
he scratched
into my head,
for months
treating them
like honey
but they singed
with the fire
of a volcano.
"I love you"
he said,
but not
when I was his
no,
always
when I was mine
or someone else's.
"I love you"
was a mantra,
what I wanted to hear
and was sure
was true,
but he couldn't love someone
if anyone
taught him what it meant.
"I love you"
was like acid,
like poison
like a drug
constantly
injected in my veins,
and I was addicted
and savored
every bruise.
"I love you"
felt like cracked ribs
and a heart
soaked in hurt.
No,
he didn't love me
until he couldn't.
It wasn't love
until I was gone,
it wasn't love
until he lost
everything.
He didn't love me
unless it was 2am,
deprived of sleep,
and drowning in alcohol.
He didn't love me
unless he was crushing me,
heart and soul,
into the dirt
with his heel.
He didn't love me
until he carved my name out
with his teeth.
He didn't love me
until it was too late,
until I was already gone.
"I love you"
he said,
when I was no longer his.
"I love you"
he said,
after I told him
I didn't.
"I love you"
he said,
his lips
around my throat
and teeth
sinking into my lungs.
"I love you"
he said,
"I haven't loved you
since I ripped you
from my veins,
tore you
from my lungs,
and scratched you
out of my head."
I said.
"I love you"
he said.
"I love you".

The End

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