You always come and go with a lot of broken glass.
Dangerous glitter littering every recess.
Broken skin and promises and broken voices
The sound of many things shattering.
Go ahead, tell them all it’s my fault, but you know it isn’t.
You got in here with a bunch of recycled lines,
all ringing so hollow now.
Tell me again, how I am your “womanly ideal,” call me “lover” one more time, talk about my bone structure and my unreadable eyes… so that I can marvel again at how I could have fallen for such lies.
Where are you now? You say you’ve gone off to die. But you are a consummate survivor.
You will “always want another chance.”
And you will never get one.
Not this time.
Train whistle recedes
(And what chords were those? )
Love, he says love.
But it feels like death and pain.
And the door closes and the night comes on
And I’ll heal.
I always do.
Christ and damn it all,
I always fucking do.