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Your anger belongs to me.
I control the bottle of emotions left
unsealed in your chest cavity.
I told you to take a sip of my sympathy
but you went ahead and swallowed
the whole God damned bottle.

Now I own you and your integrity.

So when you slapped me across the face
I knew you hated me for a good reason.
That’s why I gave you a second chance
the very same day you gave up on believing
in the adjectives you once boiled to create your self-esteem.
And now you’re steaming.

I swear there ain’t a reason for me to stay
but I remain here,
fascinated as I patiently await
by how much I miss your hands against my mouth
telling me to shut up
reminding me I’m worthless
and refusing to hold me.
I swear there ain’t a purpose
but I belong to your ability to make weapons out of words.

You kill me with your connotations,
Each battle I’m left bleeding.
My cheekbones remain swollen
by the inconvenient truths you keep revealing.
I’m not good enough for you to love me
but you keep coming back for more of the only thing I’ve got in me.

Your attention.
I’m in debt up to the sky
but I have your attention.
When you ask me for the price
You pay me with your attention.

While you hold me against the wall
I’m wrapped around your fingers
breathless by your touch.
I scream for you to let go of me
Begging for you to stop.
But then our mouths erupt.
Simultaneously.
Spitting the same syllables:
You belong to me.

Britta B.

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