when we met he smelled
like tobacco and vanilla
and he looked like trouble

maybe he was a little
rough and tumble and liked
to fight bare-knuckled

but he kickstarted my
heart right into
overdrive

and it is as simple as this:

i loved him first.
i loved
him first

but i loved you more.

in the
dark
with your body pressed against mine, you ask me questions
because you want to know my mind
want to know me
and not just the face you see

you ask me things like
what is your favorite color, food, embarrassing memory,
etc.
etc.
etc.

all pretty tame questions
ever break anything? you say and i assume you mean
bones so i tell you about breaking my wrist, the
snapped radius and the misplaced ulna
but you stop me
no, like,
broken something. you know?

something like someone’s heart?

and i think no nothing like that because i’m not sure
if anyone else has ever loved me
enough to be sad
i left

but i don’t say that
instead
i tell you about smashing plates against the wall
for fun
and when i’m done

you’re fast asleep.