Like the serrated edge

of razor-sharp regret,

you pulled my infertile soul

away with uninspired breath.

You emaciated me, daily

with your asthmatic invites;

an omen in bright lights,

as sterile as dustmites.

And since your stain stripped away

the stars from our strawberry sky—

I rip each stitch out from my skin,

then douse myself in kerosene.

As I eradicate all evidence of your

infected obsession, I explode.

Infinite in my eternity—

I am a universe of self-love.