She was an icy cunt.
The coldest young lady I had ever met.
Too cold for her age.
Her blue eyes, white hair, and pale skin was winter and ice.
Her soul was the same.
She was a bitch.
An icy cunt.
She broke me.
And kept breaking me over and over again.
She was rude to everyone.
Had opinions about everything.
And she was loud.
Loud and cold.
She was a loud, cold and sarcastic bitch.
She had a foul mouth,
And a short fuse.
She was the shiver that runs down spines.
She was the goosebumps on cold skin.
She had a white husky.
Seemed fitting for her.
Her dog was a sweetheart.
She wasn't.
This dog was the only thing she hadn’t driven away yet.
That's the great thing about dogs.
you could be an icy cunt,
And they would still love you.
She drove me away
And I loved her.
Why did I love her?
I ask the question because I have no answer.
Why did I love her?
Maybe I’ll never know.
She had a heart colder than snow.
You knew she was a bitch by the way she dressed
Skirts, boots, half tees and a choker.
Who the fuck still wore chokers?
She did.
She was a throwback person.
From a different time.
The older days when people were cruel in a blunt way.
Not the passive aggressive way they are now.
She taught me about Bukowski.
She taught me about music.
Real music.
She practiced pole dancing in her garage.
She wasn’t as good as she thought.
She wasn’t as beautiful as she thought.
I did like it when she would dance in her kitchen with a hula hoop though
But she was still an icy cunt,
And she knew it.
She took pride in it.
Maybe she experienced joy in breaking men?
I had heard I wasn’t the only one who was broken by her.
For some reason that made me feel worse.
I felt bad for the other suckers.
Couldn’t they see she was an icy cunt?
Why did they fall for her anyways?
Why had we all?
I hate her now
And I still love her.
The love and the hate mixed together like whiskey and coke.
A perfect drink of poison and sugar.
I hated myself for loving her
And I couldn't stop.
I wish I could,
But instead,
I keep writing my shitty writings about her.