• dear isaac,

    i liked the way you plainly stated
    'i can't wait till monday'
    into my cheekbone
    and smeared the word around
    waiting for me to succumb and say
    'why'

    you know i didn't want to,
    but you make me.
    you reach into me and rip my ribs into drumsticks
    (although i know you only play the tuba)
    and bang around in my head until the dreadful word escapes the hole below my eyes.
    'why?' i ask.

    'because she'll be back on monday.'


    you words are like
    you drove
    a fifty pound truck
    full of nails
    and wood chips
    and hate
    into my stomach.


    how could you kill me with six little words?
    how could you tear me into little wisps and blow me out into the wind?
    how could you?




    p.s.
    i still love you.