The Upper Hand

For a moment there,

for just one






I saw your spine cracked in half

Tender body racked with black rain

Dry-heaving, cries leaving you red

Raw, like the very beginning


And I thought

so haughtily

that I had the upper hand


After all,

he never stirred a purge

Never disturbed your perfectness

quite like I did


And I smiled


And then that smile died

in its pocket


It occurred to me

you never shattered for him

Never split

into fine, golden, broken pieces

because he never gave you reason to


He kept you




You can also read this poem here

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