How?

I pick leaves,
dead ones
and with a pestle and mortar
I pretend I'm a cook,
or a great looker in the shiny work surface
but no,
it's time to accept it.
I'm just another waste of skin,
too emotional,
too weak,
too trapped within caring for others.

There were packets,
in a see-through bag
and I collected up the paracetamol,
and the pain relievers
and popped them in my handbag
barely able to see through tears.

Why can't you just let me go?
How can you be so selfish? You knew I'd stay. I care for you
but this is not fair. Just go back to her
and leave me alone,
you did the damage,
you were the vendetta,
you are the alter-ego
and the personification of everything I detest.

You disgust me.
You make me feel sick.
You are nothing and everything.
I hate you with my bones and breath and blood
and yet out of some physical, emotional, fucking shit fuck cunt bollocks twat

bond
I daren't leave.
I don't want to leave.