Just so you know,
you have,
without anesthesia,
surgically excised
my heart
with your cold scalpel,
cauterized,
pulverized it into powder,
doused it in lighter fluid and
flambéed it,
pounded it with your ballpeen hatred
like rancid meat,
scored it with your razorblade
crisscross applesauce
to intensify,
exaggerate,
variegate the splatter pattern,
oozing,
dripping like Dracula.
You have bulldozed
my cardiac muscle into
a nice, flat, black surface,
glugged its canker sores with carbonic acid, and
carved, castrated, crucified it,
sliced me into slivers,
punctured, pierced, and poisoned me
with your tainted sword,
scratched, strangled, and sacrificed me
like a Mayan child,
mulled me like a rabid dog,
mangled me like Mengele,
my love flushed like feces,
passed like piss
drained into the sewer,
tossed it into a blender,
punched HIGH,
and smiled while I leak
into oblivion.
Otherwise, I’m fine.