Labeled It Love

I'm sick of the way you labeled it love with emotions manufactured out of flesh and contrition you can try to hide lust in the vat of a fairytale but saying you love me isn't a fucking baptism

I'm sick of the way your love disassembles so neatly Tear down the plastic Christmas tree, break off the branches and the stem I'm sick of the way you tried to love so completely when, darling, we are Love's intermission.

I'm sick of thinking about your tongue every time you start to speak The line between love and friendship softened and malleable I'm sick of the way you think of your love as a quaint antique because, dear, the tarnish isn't fucking valuable.