I wonder if you think about me.
The way you hand fed my heart
while I mended yours
piece by piece.
The way I held you
against my body when there was
nothing in your head but
death and doubt.
The way I’d smirk when
your jokes fell flat because you’d always
laugh through the punchline.

I wonder what makes you laugh now.
Is it still me?

The way I swallowed my tongue
while you shoved lies down my throat?
The way I held on to you
while you found pleasure in another?
The way the corners of my lips would
tighten as you set me up to be your next
perfectly orchestrated joke?

Because I think of you.
And am torn.
Piece by piece.