Saw your face today at the supermarket;
you watched me under the counter and
over the mustard
Oh! How far you’ve come;
I should say thanks for spitting down my throat.
Thanks for the lies, babe;
for nothing is truer than venom.
You never did have the intention of making me an
It’s been years, but still you burn me;
my reputation smolders,
and I see the smoke in their eyes.
I’ve been forgiven, but not forgotten.
I hate you,
but I’ll take a half pound of your pastrami.
© Kindra M. Austin