A Feast

Keep your hands clean while you

rip my heart out and cook it on a stick

over a hearth

until medium rare;

wrap a handkerchief around your neck,

and jovially serrate muscle and cartilage

with primitive animosity and general disconcern.

 

Perhaps everything’d’ve been alright had I left sooner–

but no…

I stayed

and endured it,

because on some level,

I hated you

and I enjoyed it.

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