deepundergroundpoetry.com

Walk Out

Close your eyes.
Breath.
Count to ten.
Little prick can't even call
late again, no surprise
It doesn't even matter anymore
Your absence is expected
In fact restlessly desired.
To bad eventually you show up
with a trailing stench of whisky and cigars.

How dare you come in and expect sex.
That IS all it is...just sex
love is not remembered
your only thought is selfish pleasure.

I can't stand that you want a timely dinner
hot and paired with your favorite beer
Countless meals i've cooked for you,
end up packed in tupperware.

I feel sick when you display me as a trophy.
As if i'm something you deserve.
I'm not naively looking down anymore
I return deceitful piercing stares.

Ultimately you will get what you have earned.
You WILL walk in one day and look for me
only to find emptiness around, and inside you
Strength is building throughout my limbs
Just a little bit more fuel
I can do this
Count to ten
Breath
Open my eyes
Walk out the door.
Written by socialbutterfly
Published
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