They – you – asked her: what’s got you down?
You asked her. You did. She never said.
The stories that she had retold over and over
never echoed through your ears.
She pulled cotton wool over your eyes
And she was safe this way.

And, see, you
left too.

It’s just you didn’t leave with that part of her.
She gave you everything

but her.

And the truth is she does this with all of them.
Even her
self.

Because it’s easier to be construed as nothing important
than a beautiful beast, broken.