Why
do you offer…
to push the swing until I fly
above the moon
and promise to catch
me-
when all you do
is make me suffer
and
take
pictures
of me
landing
on asphalt
?
Why
would you do something
like that
?
Was it
so when you pulled
my pictures off of your wall
pieces of me
would stick to you
like bandaids
to patch
your leaky
heart
?
Moccasins at Meadow Arc 
The last paragraph is entirely fabulous. Despite the pain I sense a strong cathartic value in this piece xx
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