how can the man who tore me apart, mourn my death?

his fabricated words,

a repetition of

I love you

watered her down.

she had once been a beautiful garden,

but he didn't know that you were supposed to pull the weeds,

he didn't know how much to water her,

always either

too little or too much,

he didn't know that flowers died.

•

his touch,

in the beginning,

enticed her,

made her beg for more.

now the mere thought of him,

burns her skin.

years ago,

his eyes were filled with embers

and he smelled like bonfires.

now she can't even differentiate between

the tobacco and sweat concoction that follows him.

did his words

water him down

too?