Together

You smile good-bye,

And I despise you

With every fiber

Of my heart:

/

Did you not tell me

That you loved me –

But just enough

To wish me luck?

/

You see exactly

Where I’m going;

You understand

I won’t return;

/

I value it

That you should trust me –

So blindly

You would watch me turn

/

To dust, and still expect

Next morning

To feel my hand,

In yours clasped tightly:

/

I’ll joke about the

Death I’d died and

Lie to your face

That all is fine;

/

Yet, when you even try

To stop me,

I simply laugh

Into your eyes;

/

No, not because

I’m mad and callous,

But because I find weakness

Funny;

/

You should have listened

When they told you,

‘She looks it,

But she isn’t nice,’

/

Sadly, your heart

Did not choose wisely;

Sadly, you followed it

And now…

/

You can’t let go

Without it seeming

That you don’t love me

As you should,

/

Nor can you stop me

When I leave; sadly,

I can’t imagine

How you would;

/

What is it called,

This game of grasping,

Of letting go,

Of pain and patience,

/

A game

For miserable losers

Who play not with each other

But themselves?

Secrets

You know too many of my secrets,

Too many times you’ve seen me fall;

Your eyes keep track of every weakness

I try to hide under cold armor from the world;

/

You love about me things which aren’t

Deserving of more than contempt;

You like the smiles, the tears, the frowns that

I hate – just like most other features of my self;

/

My eccentricities don’t scare you,

My doubts don’t make you doubt your choice

To be with someone ever-absent,

Who’s all her own and won’t be yours;

/

And in your hands my ill-kept secrets

Are deadly weapons, which you use

When with those hands you bend and break me,

And through your mouth spit out abuse

/

You love about me all that’s ugly

Because those spots aren’t hard to hit;

Against my own self-hate defenseless,

I stay; for who will feed your anger if I leave?

/

My eccentricities don’t scare you –

They, too are targets for your blows,

But this unyielding something in me

Your fists can’t reach, is still my own;

/

It is the pride that I was born with,

Which some like you would take away;

It is the courage to be smiling, crying, frowning

With a bruised face, day after day;

/

It is the hope, too, that one morning

I would wake up and wouldn’t need

Somebody by my side, destroying

My body – to distracts me from the pain under my skin

The Portrait

I draw my thoughts and feelings

On your face,

Imagining they are

Your own,

/

And put such words between your lips

As you would never say;

To me

It matters not

/

That you do not exist

The way I see you:

A book in progress

I complete too soon

/

An empty canvas, which I over-paint

With meaning,

But dry paint cracks, and you emerge –

The true you I don’t know