I am no longer impressed
by his decivingly good looks.

And when he whispers "I love you."
I question why he thinks I might forget.

Each time he winks,
I want to take my fork
and stab it into his twitching eye.

Each time he smiles,
I want to grab his lower lip
and wrench it behind his ear.

Every time he calls me sweetie,
in his manipulative way,
it makes me want to gag,
with the velocity of a bulemic.

And every time he tells me,
that this one meant nothing to him
it is all I can do, to stop myself
from reaching for the kitchen drawer.