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,

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