I used to write you volumes 
Of lines; encyclopedias of 
Words, but my ink has run dry 
My patience has gone cold 
No one could wait forever 
So why test it? 

Haven’t you hurt me enough? 
Haven’t you gotten your fill 
Of my squandered devotion? 
You held my love in your teeth 
Biting down on any instance I seemed to 
Break free. Does it make you happy 
To know it’s just me and my sore heart now? 
Or to you long for my servitude again? 
Bury me under your new memories 
Each notch in your belt looks newer 
Than mine. Soon enough you’ll forget my name 
It used to calm you at the end of every 
Profession of 
love. 
In retrospect I should’ve 
Seen the chains around my wrists 
Then I knew nothing of your perversions. 

How irritating you can be.