taste (TW for cannibalism)

The taste of my flesh against your teeth, the way you continue to tear into the dull, lifeless flesh beneath you, even when i begged, cried, wailed for you to free me from the jaws i used to adore, you did not listen, my agony falls onto deaf ears, i want to be angry, i want to feel rage but i cannot, you looked so beautiful, my bleeding heart in the hands that crushed my ribcage, tearing what little pieces of me i had left, clawing and biting. Agony and anger go hand in hand but how could I be so hateful to an angel? How could I hate the hands that cradled me when nobody else would? How could I bite the hand that feeds? The hand that fed me the affection I reached for, I was never ungrateful, even when it hurt, even when your affection was forced down my throat, even when I was choking. I begged for so long for you to love me, this is what I wanted. This is what you did.

So now, even when I stare up at you, your features drenched in my blood, I smile. I smile at you, I am your art piece. I have no choice, I wanted to be beautiful, this is what you made of me, a disfigured masterpiece. Who am I to complain? How could I complain? This is what I wanted, this is what you needed. You needed this and I let you, I let you because I love you. You treasure me right? You treasure the taste I have given? Is it good enough? Please, please tell me my bones are beautiful, tell me my crimson is art, please it's all i want, please i want to be good enough, i don’t care what you do, please love me, please love what i have given, i don’t care if it hurts me, i just want you to treasure my broken body like i treasure the your breathing, lively one.

You left, You left me. I am cold. I cannot move, I can only feel. I feel rage. I finally feel rage. Look at what you have done to me. What you have made of these broken bones. I have no heart, I only have the ghost of what should have been ‘no.’ Instead I am left here to rot. Instead you leave me to decompose and later dispose of what was left. Now I will watch from afar, a spector, watching you choke on what I gave. Does it make you feel sick? Can you stomach me? Am I making you feel sick? Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name? Does it hurt? I hope it does, i hope it burns the back of your throat, i hope you spit up what i gave, i hope you choke, i hope you burn, i hope it stings so bad that struggle to rid of the taste for weeks, I hope my body ruins your stomach, I hope you cannot forget the taste of my flesh, You will find parts of me in your teeth, under your nails, on your clothes. You will remember the sight of my body, my exposed rib cage cracking under the pressure of your fists, My heart breaking under the pressure of your anger. My skin is tearing under the grinding of your teeth.

You never cared, You were just hungry for the innocence I displayed.

You never loved me, You were starving for what little dignity i had left.

I was nothing to you but now you can never forget.

I am your worst mistake.

I am your art piece.

I am the taste you will never forget.