Arsehole.

That boy you’re with
He is an arsehole.

Let’s be honest.

You screamed,
And he called you a cunt.
He threw a bottle of wine at you.

Or maybe that was me.

I no longer remember.

Once upon a time we swore that no amount
Of alcohol would make us forget.

That place in the park,
Where I went down on you.
In the rain.

It seemed romantic at the time.
But that place is no longer there.

It vanished the moment you cried rape.

So, I called you a cunt, and wasted a good bottle of wine.
But maybe that’s not the point.

We all have regrets,

I just wish that mine weren’t aimed so badly.