I'm constantly
walking into blades
like I'm walking
through fields of flowers

exposed
those knives fit easily
in my glass heart

How can I love you
and let you treat my like that
and then make me feel guilty for feeling wronged
you never bought me flowers
until I left you

I miss finding pieces of us on the floor
I miss our soft words tugging at each others zippers
I miss our sharp insults ripping at each others buttons
I miss the feeling of myself spilling out
Of my walls crumbling to the floor
I miss every piece of me being exposed
Open to your eyes
I miss playing with everything I found inside of you
I miss our carelessness causing everything to lay scattered on the ground
I miss swapping ideas and thoughts
I miss the library we built together
We didn't have time to clean up
To split evenly what was laying on the ground around us
You took what you could and you ran
With my voice urging you to go
Now I lay here in our mountains of things
I stroke the pieces you left behind
And I start rebuilding my walls
I start putting the pieces that I have back together inside of me
I know that I'm missing some
And I know that when you go through the same process you'll find them and think of me
As I sort through myself
I find things that I don't want anymore
I discard things from both you and I
And rebuild a different way
The walls I'm building now are thinner
Because I know the feeling of them spilling down is a good one
The library inside of me now has more meaning, and less gaps
I'm still in the process of cleaning
I think I will always miss finding pieces of us on the floor
But I'm preparing myself to be ready to experience it again.

his presence stained long
after his glitter
wore thin

uncaring that
his hollow self
festered

puerile jokes regaled
spawning an
ingratiating syrup

of slick deception
fashioned by conceit to
fool most

but the astute
who sensed a rank
dearth of authenticity

long lost
to the lure of
common expediency