Disgust

Oh, come now!
You don’t mean to say
that you are, er
in love with me or something, do you?

I guess not, I hope not
Oh Heavens, No!
Spare me the tripe
of your co-dependent longing
and that priapic rapture
as you see my face hear my voice touch my skin
or fantasise about
seeing my face hearing my voice touching my skin

I’m done with you
and a long time ago.
Then why do I write this?
Because this masochistic high of being disgusted at self
for allowing even one moment of intense emotion for you…
this haematic high, is quite addictive.