Every Last Drop

Confiding in the Con Man

I showed you my black and blues.

Talked about the nights I'm up till two.

Uncurling first, releasing, I shared

and you were prepared,

already moving, mid-reaction.

A vicious verbal backhand

added to my ache. 

Grateful, in a sense.

Gripping my face.

Healing in the wince,

because 

now I know

the last thing 

I must let go

is 

you.