February 22, 2012
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I was carried on China Plates and
Balanced on thin strands of Silk
And adorned with pearls and your
Romantic sentience.

You cared more about the tone and speed of
Your words than about the
Corrosive silence
That chains my wrists and throat.

You were more concerned about coloring my world
With sunsets and midnight walks
Instead of harsh words and abusive jokes.

I mattered.

I am balanced on a line
Of your blinking space.

Between the flashing cursor
And the first word on your lips.

That word used to be love-
And rose petals and whispers.

That word used to be-

I have never had a home.
Instead, I buried myself in the crevices
Between your ventricles and arteries
Until we were the same shade of crimson.

I thought I had a dwelling in your heart,
But I disregarded your false love and
Mendacious spirit.

I forgot that to have a home
Means to believe in safety
And in fairy-tales.

She was the best,
But now she has tumbled off the trapeze of glory
And hides in the weeds.

Her aura crunches beneath my feet and I can
Taste her disdain for all of humanity.

I would have painted three thousand murals for you by day
And written ten thousand ballads for you by night.

I would have made the rainbow bleed its colors
Into a pool of ingenuity and I would have sliced
The moon into thirty-three tendrils of
Glowing desires for you.

You mattered.

You serve yourself on a platter
Of frail China and sew promises with
Strands of silk and glistening charm,
And you advertise the best of yourself through
Your infectious laugh and lovely lies.

I laugh and chase the sunshine instead of
The buzzards.

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