I keep going back to the image that you cracked me in two

That you reached into my chest and tore out my heart

It’s pumping red grotesque thing 

and simply squeezed it into your fingernails

and pulled until it was torn in two. 

In this image I fall to my knees one final time

In this image I wear the face of betrayal 

In this image I knew it was coming but -

In this image I still had hope for us. 

 

Sometimes there’s a second part. 

You sob at my bloodied bones,

and desperately try to put me together again. 

You shove the halves together 

And push them back into my cavity. 

You cover the open wound with my hair

As if it could heal the skin flayed away

To make room for my death. 

In this image I slowly open my eyes. 

In this image I shakily caress your face

In this image I die anyway. 

In this image I —