there's something amiss about the way
you tell me of the things that are wrong
with her body. the cynicism in your tone
makes a foe out of the ends of your lips as
they curl up and spout blasphemy. you
pat the empty space beside you, a seat
covered in fleece so soft, with cup-holders
installed, and by its side an impatient
wheelbarrow with a shiny paint finish.
pity it was eaten by rust,
creaking, and as fragile as an
infant's bones.
still, you tell me to work with gusto
because it aureates every colored layer
of your universe. work with careful fingers
that do not waver. i should tear her tower
down
brick
by
brick
just as you do. you tell me i
should shame her of the things
that are not of you and bear the
shame of the mistakes i was
molded with.
that i should heed to your image
because she is not what i should be.
you want me to be the pretty flower that
blossoms in scorching sunlight, the one
bees pick to kiss and men pick to profess
love for starry-eyed princesses
who find romance in flowers. i asked what love was to you and you replied,
"you."
but your eyes were astray,
and another cyclone of ruin was
onto your prey, trailing after her as
she tried to hide from your scrutiny.
when were you taken away
from me?
it seemed as though you moved
by lightning-a strike, then smolder;
but i digress, for your footprints
are all over this kingdom. some light,
some dragging, but all silent-creeping;
a decay that drills even in the day.
you used to be different.
you had your gaze fixed forward,
and your hold was empty but you used
to find it fine. it was then you came up
to me with garden tools you insisted she
needed fixing.
was it something you saw?
what did you see?
what
have
you
learned?
dandelions are pretty flowers that bloom
in scorching sunlight. they bloom
by lightning-a second, then infest.
flowers become weeds as they devour
your lush backyard. and you would hate
what you see. if you were blind,
would you have changed your mind?
if only i could gouge your eyeballs and leave sagging sockets empty then maybe you'd look only at me, and not at her.
maybe you would hate her less
and love me more.