I knew you.
you're an artist but
the words you blow and bend into being
knock me to the floor
to shatter
as a glittering landscape
of venom sinking in deep
twisting my veins
accustomed to the numb ache of doubt
the remembered you
is brittle from evaporated trust.
the masterpiece of others falling
is your fuel.
needing the heat
you **** us all dry.
you're an artist
you can make
anything.
So why
make me feel small?