I am nothing like
the tiny slip of a thing you have now.
I am nothing like
the babysmell of soft curls she bore you.
I am nothing like
the delicate ones
you saved and cradled.
I was strong before you.
And then you broke me.
I am strong again without you.
You shattered me.
I am reforged.
You cannot break me again.
I will bite deep into you,
peel back your skin,
bare your heart,
carve you up.
I will scatter you
to the four winds,
and you will never be whole again.
Nothing Like
Bring it, Jones. When you write like this, I think I’m glimpsing into your soul, that this is you. Don’t know if that’s so or not, but it’s how I feel.
By the way, like the new blog layout.
Facets. It’s all facets.
Or lies. I don’t remember which.