I’m so angry at you.
I want you to feel pain.
I want you to choke
on every
single
word
you said to me.
I want the loneliness and grief
to find you
like your fists
found my stomach.
I want you to drown in the alcohol
that made me drown in my mind
when I tried to escape
your sloppy hands.

But why were you also kind?

I don’t understand.

I should hate you.

I want to hate you.

I should be glad you're gone.

I’m happy you're gone.

But when you left,
you weren’t allowed
to take the sun
with you.