Bug

I used your pet name last night.  
It was an accident.  
 
It slipped out of the lonely gap of my teeth  
as I slipped him out of me.  
 
It came searching for you like the pest that you are.  
 
I called this stranger your pet name and cried,
It was an accident.  
 
How it still pains me  
that you turned out to be a flea only for her.  
 
The bird woman
 
The one who could leave and still be so present.  
So controlling in absence.
 
But my dear,  
you are a bug.  
 
A plague that took years from me and my piece of earth.
 
A selfish feasting on the blood of my insecurity,  
 
Strategic in the intimacy
In the capture of a meal in a lover.  
 
Your body still lives in the crease of my mattress,
your scent lays bitterly next to me.  
 
While I bled in yours,
Forever stained my iron on your heart and sheets.
 
My cunt,  
your hollow.
 
I admit, I traumatized you.
 
I took away something primal too.  
 
You gifted me pain, while I stole the peace.  
Even in the end we are congruent.
 
Like you once said to my suffering,
“Opposites attract and we are the same.”
 
But you're not a bird,  
you are not better than me.  
 
You're a bug forever.
 
The greatest infestation to my little insect life.
 
It will forever be devastating to have loved and lost a bug like you.  
 
But love you,  
I did.