"I don't care

if you think

that my poetry

does not

make

sense."

I hissed at him,

anger seething in me,

skin craving for his hands around my neck.

Go ahead and

hit me. It doesn't matter.

My body is

exhausted of fitting in

certain standards

and criteria.

Don't bother with me

I am a jigsaw puzzle that

never really

formed a picture.

This is how

you left

me

with no

order.

I do not know

how to

pick my

words like flowers

in a garden

because I've lost

my dictionary;

you've stolen my

ability to

speak.

This is

how you

left me:

structureless.

lower cases and Uppercases

I am breaking free of

regulations.

this is how you left me.

I feel

like an escaped animal

from the zoo

only no

one is

looking for me.

As much as this is driving me crazy

it feels

so good

to not think about structures and order

and rhyming words

it feels so

good

to be free.

and you no

longer lie

in between my

syllables and letters

and carefully crafted words

like origami.

i will wreck you in my

poetry

I will no longer

write

about the butterflies

for you are a cockroach.

this is hilarious.

this is insanity.

this is how you left me.