puddle
i will grip the last shards of you,
until the edges slice my palms.
through skin and tissue,
muscle and bone,
'till its through the other side.
when it lands on the pavement,
blood-soaked and broken,
i'll clasp my palms together,
stronger than we ever were,
and scoop up the shattered pieces.
i'll cradle them,
with that gentleness you one day forgot,
and never shown me again.
as i step over the stains in the concrete,
my lacerated flesh,
held tight to my chest,
i know.
i know that,
i'll let your memory dissect me forever,
until all that remains—
is a puddle of all i hoped we could be.
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