i want you to stop treating hurt like an old friend.
when he knocks at the door, stop letting him in.
you deserve better than this. can’t just
throw rocks at your heart and call it
romantic;
there is more at your fingertips than
hand-grenades and hair-triggers.
there is so much more than this.
i know you love him, but he is
too much weight to carry on your back and
only one of you can make it out of this.
you can fill a body with excuses, but
that doesn’t make it breathe–
can’t frankenstein’s monster a relationship
out of the things you wished it’d been.
all this aching will make a museum of you.
and you will walk through the empty halls
of your chest, and see all the things
that loved you half to death. and parents
will tour their children through the wreck
to teach them what it means to light
a body like a match.
trust me when i say
the love isn’t worth the price
of the flint.
but you love him.
so you love him.
what then?