The truth is. . .
The truth is
while you dream of him holding you until you are safe again
he is holding someone else
with that face
the one your best friend says looks like something’s crawling out of his eyes
And telling new lies
Or the same ones
And it’s alright
because he’s not that powerful
No one is
and he didn’t break your face
he wanted to shatter you to pieces
so as to hold you more conveniently
he desired you in his pockets
slivers of you cutting at his finger prints
as he palmed other women’s frames
he wanted you as broken as his own mind
But you don’t shatter
Or even bend really
You absorb
9.19.13










