[Published in Tulsa Sunset Publications, issue #2 (2014)]
That shiny armor’s gone, and I can’t compete with
The me that met you, before I let you in
Past the dogs and inside my walls. And I’m still amazed
At the damage you caused, without fangs
And without claws… just bare hands and beautiful,
Lip-clad jaws. And no amount of bandages
Or gauze, could stop the bleeding from the holes
You dug to get fingers in deep, meat hook grip
To rip me down the middle and drip
Dry every drop of blood, every tear, every sigh,
And push me to the edge to see if I’d leap, but
I’m too tired to weep, so I try to sleep, and you keep
tugging at the sheet like a leash around my neck.
And I watch the ceiling and wait
for some god to set things straight, but
he ignores those without faith, like you
ignore me to my face, like I ignore all
the reasons I should stop this… and leave this place.
And even the good pieces were left out too long,
Dried up, curled, a cracked glass, cracked voice
And a song,
About the black and white of right and wrong.
But you and I know that right is just love
And wrong is when you don’t belong.
And we don’t.