You appeared, suddenly,
like a ray of hope in my life.
I thought all joy came from you,
All goodness.
I bathed in our bliss.
Why should I now be contrite?

You took everything I offered
And with a smile,
A cold, chilling, careless smile,
You crushed it in a callous fist.
It did not happen overnight,
But slowly, drip by heartless drip,
You bled me dry.
No amount of begging, no entreaty
Could stop you, or divert you
From your perverse road:
For it was perverse.
Every action, every word, every lift of an eyebrow
Was preconceived and predetermined.
With purpose and deliberation,
You ruthlessly, relentlessly destroyed our love,
Desecrating all that had been sacred to us.
Why should I now be contrite?

For when you finally had shattered,
Battered and ground to dust all hope and beauty,
Then you found you needed me.
And I, hurt beyond despair, hit back;
displayed and flaunted myself before you,
dragging other lovers unwilling into the depths,
as you wept with a mad desire
that could never be fulfilled.
I watched, gleeful, crowing, revelling
as you crumbled slowly before me,
to leave a snivelling wreck.
Why should I now be contrite?