Scorn

I tore him apart

Ripped to shreds like the poems I wrote for him

He is the pieces I pick up off the floor.

Yet I was the one…
to fall.

Breaking into shards of glass too small to touch, to reach

Though I stretch-

Scream-

Bend
At all angles

And he –
So blinded

And I –
So needy

Clinging

To the soles of his feet

Crushed into the pavement

I cry out

Praying for the resurrection
Of this cross

I’ll never again hold between my breasts
So close.