Did it hurt,
the way you
crawled out of Hell
like a demon in a horror movie,
fingers splitting open on the lava-hardened stone
you used to haul yourself up?
You wiped those blood-stained fingers
across my cheek like war paint,
bared your too-white teeth
into a smile,
and tried to hide the fact that
all the smoke you were blowing--
all the sweet, sweet lies and the
was going to turn to ash
at my feet.
Sometimes, ya just gotta let the emotions out.