I hope you\'re happy
I hope your finger slides on the checkbook
and the account number is smeared with the blood
oozing from the open cut.
I hope you\'re happy.
That your trips to work
are full of bumper-to-bumper traffic
that makes you just late enough that your boss
questions your loyalty to the brand.
I hope you\'re happy.
I hope the center console stabs your back
when you ride bitch in your brother\'s
truck on the way to your favorite cousin\'s
coming out party.
Y\'know. The one you invited me to, before.
I hope you\'re happy.
I hope there\'s always rain on your vacation days
and that the stars only shine where you aren\'t
and the wind blows your house down
and your car won\'t start when you have a presentation
and your womb dies a cold, lonely death
like the finger of winter strikes into your body
the way you struck me.
I hope you\'re happy
knowing I could be what you wanted
what you needed
without realizing how
devastating
you
could
be.
I hope you\'re happy.
Because I know I\'m not.