Rotten

Calloused hands trickling down my spine.

You think I love it,

but you don't see my cringed face,

or bloodshot eyes.

Breathing heavily,

the air sucked from the room

and replaced with your toxic stench,

and perfumed disease.

Moving closer, I'm falling away.

You don't even notice,

when you can only feel yourself;

your self-hatred.

Volcanic eruption filling the walls

with sounds of self-pleasing manipulation.

Pressured into serving your desires;

if I say no, i'm selfish.

You don't notice my pained breaths,

or manufactured smile;

only that I'm not enough to fill your void.

I must not be the one.