Your eyes stabbed you in the back
when you opened your lie
and tried to put it out
as a truthful flame,
but I didn’t break with you
because getting a knife
out of my torso is much better
than sleeping on a bed of
butterknives that are no longer
dull, they’re sharp and that’s
the irony of life.
You took every piece of me
and spread buttered lies
onto it as something pure,
but I’m awake now and
this is the end between
us and the food stuck
in between our teeth,
we’re embarrassing
and I’m glad we flipped
the pages and dropped
the eggs that no
longer contain us.
We broke a bit that day,
but that’s how I’ve felt before.
You left me when you saw
that I’m as broken as
the first day you met me.
I’m cracked and no mirror
can reflect my wickedness.
Keep your sand. Keep your hourglass.
I’ll keep my broken reflection
a little longer without you.
