Chopped Baconrinds

You were gone for quite a time
And I was really quite thrilled.
Was I good enough prey for you?
You left me rather chilled.

You’re quite a poet, friend.
Quite a way with words.
And with those goddamn letters
You cut me into thirds.

One part was my mind
For reading what you wrote.
Honestly, I’d prefer you’d
Goddamned CUT OUT MY THROAT.

You left my heart in the gutter
And not in a heart-break way.
More a “I don’t value me anymore”
Sort of decorative array.

I remember, even still
Those lines of prose
To a thirteen year old girl
A delicate girl – a rose.

Shall we reminisce together?
“I want to come on your chest
I want to own all of you
And write my name on the rest”

“I’ll own you with my body
I’d make you come with my fingers
And then force myself into you
Until no thought but me lingers”

Abbreviated still
From the horrors that evoked
A child to throw up
As she felt like she was choked.

Now there’s little you can say
It’s been about a year.
But fuck your happy pretence
And all your negligent cheer.

I’m no longer a child.
I’ll not be your toy.
You're thirty years old
Act your age, boy.