he loved me the way
a dog nurses an open wound.
smothering, all teeth barred
and tongues.
And this won't be like
crush a lightbulb
in your fist.
more like slowly removing glass
from the inside of your palm.
and i loved him the way
i would spit it onto his voicemail
every syllable dripping with
the shot of whiskey
i downed for courage.
and i'd feel as ashamed as i do
going to work in
last nights clothes.
cringing.