I’m so torn and cut open
it stopped to hurt
I stared at the wounds you inflicted
and saw a painting that I didn’t draw
what I could be instead
what I could do instead
of belonging to you
I could live in sacred spaces
in darkness
where you took what I did not offer
I reclaim it
the darkness
that hid your sins
that showed me your real face
what about the world that I wanted
and imagined and pursued
you put it in your pocket
and never gave it back to me
like a worn-out handkerchief
killed by your features
with the end stitched into its borders
you encapsulated me
in the electric imagination
of my suspended desire
Croque-Melpomene 