Fuck You

And this brown paper bag
filled with warm secrets,
that make me melt
from the inside out.

You say I'm masochistic,
that I crave the ache
And the burn of the knife
You slice through my spine
every night.

You bend me backwards-
contorting my limbs
just to spread my thighs.

For I was never made
to mold under your hands.

This liquid fire is
merely a reminder,
Of all the nasty little things
you have made me do.

You whispered, bit and tore—
That [hollow] blood pumping
organ from out my chest.

Then, hid my heart away
under the floorboards
of your darkest dreams.
For this, you swore.