She licks her lips. It’s a nasty thing.
Heard about it from someone who knew
someone who heard something
from somebody else.
Artificial sweeteners still rot outwards
from her organs. Self-styled dear-heart.
So tender. So kind.
Her pride is taking back: the internal “Ha!”
Karma to gloat: They Got Theirs.
Artful reward – a passive satisfaction
in aggressive keystrokes.
Almost like being there. Vengeance.
A confidence. (Or as near as she’d get.)
Someone else Failed.
They must feel… This!
They must say… That!
A self-loathing shared.
Transference is bliss.
And she is Glad!
The lonely space is cosy. She smirks
and takes lovely time to mock
They’ll come wheedling back to her.
Pretensions broken – knowing their place.
Because she is so kind. And tender
and happy to hear
someone else might hurt.
Even in her own imagination.