Laying in bed,

she told me 
all about her

most recent lover;

how he had broken

her like a clock.

“You see, I can’t move

anymore,” she said,
“You see, I can’t feel
anymore,” she said.

Her hands shook

and she got so pale
simply at the thought
of it all.

I rolled over,

—I am no superhero,

sweetheart—

Don’t believe I will save you,

Don’t believe I will kiss you,

I will not hold you hand.

“This isn't your rebound,
sweetheart, 
it is your rehabilitation,”

I told her.

This is your rehabilitation
for all the times

you fell in love

and couldn't get back
up,

for all the men
that seemed so sweet

but never delivered.

Don’t believe I will save you,
Don’t believe I will fix you,
“This isn't your resolution
,
sweetheart, it is your retribution,"

I told her.
This is your retribution,

so **** me

like all the men

who ****** you over,
like all the men
who broke you down.

**** me like 
a woman with no heart

and one day you will
realize it may not
 be
pretend anymore.

—I'm no superhero,

sweetheart—

But I will sure as hell

play the villain,

because most of 
the time
that is all you truly 
need.