When

TW-Images of death and suicide

When did you think the pain would set in
For me?

Apparently,

Not when
You told me you didn’t know what you wanted
After you persuaded me to sleep with you.
I couldn’t breath

Not when
You let the ice of your doubt
Give me frostbite
While your mind leisured in a warm summers day.
The glowing romanticism of your drama
Failed to resuscitate
The blackened person you were holding.

Not when
You let me drown
In the oceans of your emotions
Of why you no longer wanted me
With no boat of solutions in sight.

You hurt me a long time before you cared about it
I had grown moss on my stone-cold skin
But I always thought it was an accident.

‘It was merely a flesh wound my Lord’.

But when
I realized the pain was purposeful,
I was the nasty smell you wanted to wash away,
The subtweet to your publicly written tragedy,
The villain in your pantomime,
I died a little
And then began to rot.  

Maybe a better question is
When
Did you decide you didn’t want me anymore?