A/N: Another subpar break-up poem.


Flushed

.

In this bitter fold—

in your capture

(taking taking taking)

(my loss)

in this sweet victory

(of yours)

I taste the grounds

(gravel, grovel, unfiltered coffee, dirt)

and you:

cake

(you lick your ownership

over every slice, clink

your cup over

my bare belly)

—what a cheater you are