You are,
so far gone,
even the absence
of love for you in my heart
has
vanished.
Having known love,
both greater and more pure than yours.
Having known heartbreak,
both more profound and more meaningful
than you ever were.
Having known lives,
more full and rich,
than had ever existed between us.
For you there is nothing but a small hole,
that I sometimes put things in
from
'that time'.
Things I no longer need or want,
like memories of your yellowed teeth
blood stained eyes
and
rotten hollow mind.
So the flies might keep you company.
You,
and your
infinite misery.
Amid the tranquil days and nights without you,
so awash in all that never was,
as if it never existed.
Not a thought,
not a word,
not a whisper
has been spoken of your name.
Until.
Still,
the truth will hurt,
even in a million years.
Asshole.
