I wonder if you ever

Sometimes I wonder if you ever
cared about me the way I thought you did when
you touched me just like I liked and held me
so close and so warm and so dear to
my heart shattered into pieces.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever
wondered about the sky above our heads or if
the games you played with me were twisted
or if I cared in the slightest bit that
you might be hurting me.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever
cried when you thought about what you had
done and all the people around me who
wanted to kill you for who you are and
bring you down with me.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever
truly lived and felt and existed or if you
were the figment of a deeply twisted
imagination and it's all a dream that
is so bitter.

Sometimes I wonder why you
aren't next to me when I scream your name like
poison on my lips and skin, finally
bringing about the end just
the way you wanted.

Author's notes: Right. I'm the greatest poet in the world, and you all know it, so I'm not expecting anyone to hate my stuff. *rolls eyes* I'm not E. E Cummings, Edgar Allan Poe, or even Robert Frost. I'm not a real poet, and I really don't care. What I do care about are people who abuse the review system just to tell me I suck. Save it, sistah.

Love and angst,
Vivica