She and I are never alone together. At least not for long. She won't allow it.
Perhaps she doesn't trust me. And I don't blame her. She shouldn't.
I hear her voice, coming from somewhere in her head, not from her chest the way I speak. It's a brassy bell that that delivers a headache. And it can't just be to me.
I would break her.
Bone by brittle bone, shattered; all the little walls, folded flat, a house of cards she didn't bother to reinforce. Maybe she knew one can't live in a house of cards. That's not my problem. I built my house out of stone.
Somewhere, she hung the photos on a delicately papered wall. But I'm taking them back. Those were always mine.
YOU ARE READING
Lavender and Leather
PoetryComplete: Sixteen short poems if you like interesting words or if you just like to think about love, lust and operating on your exes in a surgery hall. Don't worry - it's just a metaphor. So: Let's disappear together In the universe you're making; I...
