The stench of vomit, lingers in the air.
I'd ask you to leave,
but I just don't care.
I shove my finger deeper, hoping for more.
You don't give a shit anyway,
I could be dying on the floor.
You stand there, questioning yourself,
on whether you should ask,
thinking of my fake smiles in the pictures atop your shelf.
When I finish, you ask your silly little question.
I smile and laugh,
"I'm just starving for perfection."

 
Copyright © ashleymarie07, All Rights Reserved