Sometimes when I hear the floorboards creak

I have to wonder if it’s you.

Intruding from the upstairs window

Groping for the bathroom door

Spewing secrets and lies

Only to be flushed down the toilet drain.

“I miss you,”
No you don’t.

“I want you,”

In your dreams.

“I love you.”

If you love me, why do you do this to me?
If you love me, why do you make it so damn hard to forget?
If you love me, why do you come back?

This isn’t love – It’s torture.

The kind that crawls in your bed

And comforts you with kisses and nightly caresses

Promising, “I’ll never go, baby, I’ll never go.”

But I want you to go.

I want you to crawl back to whatever Hell you came from.

I want you to breathe in the sulfuric fumes and decaying bodies

And suffocate.

I want you to drown in an endless cesspool

Of choking on your own words like I have.

Of crying silent tears that have to be stifled for the children! The children!

As I have been suffering for years.

And only once you feel the thousands of pains that I have held

Can you die,

Leaving me with the gentle breezes of the wind,

And the silent whisper of your last breath echoing through the empty house

Calming me through the warm air.

And I tell myself I can hear your agonizing screams

From the depths of Hell,

Comforting, promising,

No more.

No more.

No more….

But sometimes, it’s just the floorboards creaking.