I wish your next love knows the one you scorned before.
I wish whoever comes next finds out that your choice, your dictate
Made the life spill from me like milk from a shattered glass.
I wish that they would discover your cold, bitter ignorance and the heat of your rage.
I wish they would know that, eventually, you'll only fuck them if they know their body is dead
And can only come alive again through your technique.
I wish they would find me reeling from the fact that you don't love me anymore and take pity,
Promptly breaking your selfish heart afterward.
Then you would know my eternal pain, my all-encompassing melancholy,
My debilitating illness.
And when you've learned your lesson, I wish you would run back to me.