these days
all i seem to get from you
are bruises around
my thoughts,
my time,
my words.

you keep reckoning with
the worst kind of friend
tallying every remark,
signing your name
over, things i'd
poured myself
into.

hate that i've done everything
to seperate us, & still
you imitate me down
to the letter.

you're more self-addicted
than i have ever been,
i'll give you that.