a woman

when you groom her,

fuck her,

and then throw her away?

You tell her

that she is a beautiful

countryside.

A nameless beach

and a faceless shore,

waiting to be conquered.

You plant your figurative flag

into the curve

of her lower back,

and then move on to the next,

leaving her littered

and wondering

if she’s good enough

for you to come back.

one second

of

a two second

story.

No one

sticks around

to see

the rest

of me.

that someone made

into a movie.

I am better on paper

than I am in reality.

lost his mind.

He would tell his wife

“There’s a man

at the end of my bed,

who stares at me at night.”

When all he was seeing

was his reflection

in the mirror

in the vanity

across the room.

I don’t need

to have Dementia

to know what it’s like

not to recognize

myself

sometimes.

Because vulnerable is a whispered word,

and any heart you can break,

I can break harder.

That’s what you get

when you keep learning from the best.

better

than I love myself

if you let me,

and that

should never be

welcomed.

about me

is that you can

huff

and puff

and blow my house down

over

and over again.

But I will always

pick up the pieces,

put them back together,

and leave the door unlocked

just in case

you want to visit.

that we spend

at arm’s length

holding our breath

and praying

to fall asleep first,

the piece of me

that I gave to you

becomes smaller

and smaller.

a loyal patron of the word “sorry”.

I will find sin in simply existing,

even when forgiveness is free.

being weathered

by the thought

that without

an empty bottle,

you

could not

carry the weight

that your words

hold.