You held the dreams I had for my happiness
like a swallow's egg in your outstretched hand.
The bird is happy, flitting where it will but knowing where home is
A home built together
a home that is safe.
How you stand with the yellow-rich yolk
slowly dripping,
and albumen sliding
and all that is fertile and promises and future
crushed in a single impulsive spasm.
Your heart hid your secrets
which kept the bird coming back
and the tricks that kept her feeling safe
are shoddy and cruel in the light of day.
Now, she knows.