Here you are looking into my life.
Catching glimpses of me with your searching eyes, so I carefully curate what I allow you to see. But if you ever knew me, you would remember that I am more than what I make visible to you. Do not think that I do this to impress you.
I am still me. Beaming and gleaming.
What else do you want me to say? Other than I loved you with my entire being more than anyone else and you stuck a knife in my heart to repay me. And whenever I dared to mend my own wounds you'd be right back to twist it even deeper.
This is the truth of us.
You came at me with your weapons: manipulation and lies, insecurity and deception.
You hated all the shit about you that you could not run from. And you poured all that into my open heart, a landfill for all the things you could never bear to be real about.
If I was cruel as you, I'd let your sweet, god-fearing mother know about how her son was the snake at Eve's ear. Expose your evil. 'Cause can't say I could ever pray for your goodness.
I stopped believing God was a man when you showed me men are nothing to worship.
So I decorated my own temple. Praised my own pussy. Worshiped my own self and became my own Goddess.
The same day I made judgement that you, my greatest non-believer can burn in hell.