I lost my voice when he told me about his past–

Past lovers and pieces of body parts that weren’t mine

Phrases that didn’t seem to fit

The small hands I held out to hold his face

And look into his eyes–

the color of earth and life

That seemed so far away from me.

He didn’t keep the memories I let burn into my skin

Whenever he touched me.

He didn’t need the words I gave him

Or the fire I kept alive when we came together

Beneath warm sheets and heartbeats

When I let him in.

He didn’t see me breaking beneath the weight of

Sharp words and heavy images

That imitated someone else,

And he didn’t see me leave until I told him I had to go.

My heart had left weeks ago, but the only part of me he noticed was

My body.

Skin and hollow bones waiting for blood to flow

And wake me up again,

But I came to an end and felt my bones break the frame

I let him see.

A frame I built to keep him looking at me,

Before my image fell apart,

And left us both with nothing but

The Breaking.