you told me that I resembled the battered, cracked baseboard
that ran along your concrete room
clearly suffering years of irrational abuse, and torment,
a foundational error maybe,
and chipped paint.

i can't say that I disagree.

but i can tell you that me and this baseboard share a lot in common

you see we both started out with a simple purpose,
sit still and do our job.
granted, my foundational friend had it slightly easier,
but only due to the that fact that you only kicked the baseboard accidentally;
in a drunken stumble or a game of indoor soccer.
I, on the other hand, was bruised and chipped away on purpose.

whether i said the wrong thing, or laughed too long, or wore the dress that you didn't like--

as if it mattered

you rattled my mangled bones with your lion heart and wanton ways,
my lips, red raw and quivering

you shook away any doubt of my worth
and smiled at the inflicted galaxies on my skin
you always saw yourself as a god

you watched the rustic liquid trickle down my thighs
from your own incisions
on my already scarred hips
and I almost felt beautiful

you ripped apart my innocence
and drowned out my screams with bad music with nasally singer and repetitive melodies

I thought I at least deserved better than ****** music

despite your absence I still sit
in concrete rooms
with cracked baseboards
and caving ceilings
because that's where I feel at home

among the broken and the abandoned,

among the walls that soaked up as many terror stories as me

among irreparable damage

and oddly enough i want to thank you
because now i have a home
within the vacancy