Stop hiding behind mutual friends, I mean,
you and I both know what happened. I have
nothing to say on the matter of you and I
I have him now, and he chose to
come back to me time-and-time again. However,
you have left your charcoal colored impression
on the fabric of his fleshy pinkish hued complexion.
The light yellows and creamy bronzes are tainted by your dingy dusty darkened clutch, your hand print stains, and your finger tips have left scorched marks connecting the dots, tracing each inch where you have touched upon his body.
Your lightless, sunless, pitch-dark aura lingers on through impure thoughts of your corruption, your claim to womanhood is false,
your whites have already been darkened and dirtied by the sex appeal that you long ago possessed seeping your juices into the mouths of others.
He did not love you my friend,
conflicted chaotic emotions are executed easily once sex is involved.