Spleen (I)

The glowing remains of a fire smolder inside,
A fire that once burned with love, trust, and pride.
You fanned up those flames with a selfish design,
To burn away those parts that, to your control, were malign.

Thanks to you, it flared up, much too hot for its base,
And thus it set fire to the rest of the place.
Along with the feelings that fueled it, it damaged
My mind and my heart; their foundations were ravaged.

Broken hearts are described almost fondly, but one burned?
Such things by those dilettante poets are spurned.
Those black scars and keloids don't so easily fade,
And no appeal to the fantasy of romantic melancholy can be made.

Wherever you are now, with whatever hapless fool,
I hope that his treatment of you is as cruel
As that senseless suffering you inflicted on me
Without compassion or remorse, but sociopathic glee.