A lingering soberness fuelled by a depressed mind, too depleted of energy to pour another glass of wine.

Once again brought to the forefront of my affliction, how much I still hate you for ruining me to feed your addiction.

I’ve since refused to become collateral to anyone else, all the meanwhile still riddled with horrible reminders of living in your abusive hell.

If we were to cross paths again, in yet another cruel twist of fate, there are a few ways I’ve romanticised over all this time of how to retaliate.

I’d love to beat you from atop the pedestal you thought you’d deserved to stand all these years, reduce you to the piece of shit that I used to fear.

Tear apart your mental health and hold you down until you resign, then cut open your face so your scars match those you left on mine.

But why waste more time than time already spent and served, and worst of all gift you the attention of which you definitely don’t deserve.

Hopefully this vendetta is one that I’ll eventually cease to pursue,
But I’m still angry for falling apart but at least I fell away from you.