In Principio

Disappointment.

It’s not your menacing scowl or your gnashing teeth,

your clenched fists or your calculating eyes,

your bulging muscles or your filthy tongue.

No. It’s not that.

You don’t scare me with your formidable armory,

piled with maces and arrows, sharp silver glinting.

You don’t scare me with your machiavellian thoughts,

your words, stealthy ninja stars, leaving me covered in cuts.

You don’t scare me with your gory ways,

trailing blood so dark it stains and never washes off.

No. It’s not that, either.

It’s that cool deadly calm that you use

when you fix me with those intent eyes,

when you abase me and belittle me

without even saying a word,

when I feel shame beyond compare

and beg you to relieve a burden that I put upon myself,

when you take in all that’s happened 

yet still respond with that patient voice,

dripping with that one emotion I fear the most from you:

Disappointment.