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
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