Wither.

I let it show
Our gruesome little fate
Oh so
Morose
And vain-
A twosome arose
When I heard his name
Like a whisper
Who quietly ripped me apart
For he was with her,
Twiddling his thumbs
As I did wither
Becoming some
Version of
My former self;
Oh pity-
(I was the things on the brimstone shelf)
Too pretty to touch
But broken still, somehow.

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