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