This Poem Is Not About You

This poem is not about you

You conceited selfish pungency

You impractical excuse of a regret

You malevolent tang of the garden

You tainted hand of medicine

Your bleak orbs lacking luminosity

That would have proven

Any morsel morality in your being

And had I noticed earlier

Would have pardoned me

Of your foul caress

As well as your vigor

In which holds a haze

Over my existence

Mostly I sense some kind of

Aura about you that I can feel

From a mile away

Yeah

This poem was not about you

It was about…

Shut up

I know

I just read over the poem

Stop smirking

Well the next poem

The next poem

Won’t be about you