K

I am stunned by how,
you, a simple boy,
can in one breath,
destroy years of progress.

(I am not 19, anymore,
I will not be fooled
by eyes the color of
a summer day,
and breath coated
with alcohol that
burns through my chest).

You are not my future,
but you are painted by my past.
A name with the weight of a
thousand mistakes
and a chance for a do-over.

I can’t tell if my heart beats
for you, or for the chance you represent.
(and there is our predestined outcome.

you have his name,
his eyes,
his web of lies.

But this time, I am the one with the
weight of the world on my finger).

when you touch me,
i will not bleed.

(he already drained me dry).

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sVend

I am the villian in your storybook,
the dragon you valiantly splatter across the pages
in the final chapter.

I am your most violent words,
the sound of breaking and the loss of innocence.
(I am the glass shard in your heart,
the inescapable wound).

I pretend that the syllables of your name
do not violate the edge of my tongue,
but you dull me down to a gentle curve
with your veritable virtue.

It is not your body I wish to victimize,
but your soul; I want to view the parts
that make you less than whole.

(you cut me open, vivisect my most
important organ until it beats only for you).

I am not variable, I am constant.
(i am still ticking between your fingers).