Things come to me piece by piece,
word for word,
phrase by phrase.
Endings,
middles,
new beginnings
come to me too.
He didn't come piece by piece,
he came as a whole
a sensory overload.
You tied my hands
you twisted my tongue
you told me your lies
and showed me what I'd become;
a monster.
Nothing was familiar;
not a word
not a sound
not a piece.
You left, you screamed
you walked right out that door.
You left me with this body, a nothing, a whore.
You got what you wanted
and I got nothing more.
And now, when I think of you
I can can only think of one thing
are you happy with what you've done?
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