FROM, ELIAS

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i’ve written one too many         self 
indulgent odes.           i’m a glutton,
bloated         from feasts of cliches
i gorge     my self on. You loved me
like a box of chocolates (You were
as animate as candy       You didn’t
  love me.)           You had your cake
and ate it         too (You discovered
            the magic of a palette knife
and  well    halved me.)              But
remolded        cliche          custards
aren’t any less filling.             i stuff
my stomach            with metaphors
    via the same hands i get my self
off with.   See i’m so smart but You 
didn’t love          me.  The words are 
the sand in my mouth       fattening 
pearl sprinkles in my gums ruining 
my fucking             poetic          cake.
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             you didn’t love me!