The only place
I’ve never been
afraid of the dark

the only home
I ever had
was with you

heart
like a fat
rotten plum

I still carry your bruises
like that first bouquet
of roses with my name on it

but at least I recognize
that they are
beyond wilted

and maybe I never did
trust him
to love me

but that’s your responsibility
even though you’d
never acknowledge it

and he’s as bad as me - worse, even
he pretends his flowers
are still in bloom

and I guess
that isn’t my problem
anymore

but I would still feel better
if I could just
break her ******* nose