beautiful, cruel you,
I used to love the idea of you,
your fingers tangled in mine,
soft lips pressing to the curve of my throat,
whispering how you wanted me.
Then you took my black marker
and dotted a short line down my sternum
guidelines, you'd said, to take my heart
and then laughed, kissing me.
Who knew that a few weeks later,
you did exactly that
and left me broken.