You did not break me.

My heart may be bruised, and it’s still beating.

Remember the night you used your words like

a sharpshooter uses bullets?

You knew you hit your mark when tears

wet my face, and I begged for you to stay.

You hit your mark when your anger, like a leather whip,

slashed my inner child into a thousand strips.

It is then that I saw you for the first time:

a coward—a wounded little boy who grew up into a man

incapable of love—a narcissist.

I do not wish you ill will, only

that Karma has her way with you;

that one day you’ll taste the salt of

your own abuse.

I look forward now, eyes intent on the

horizon where the dawn and night kiss each morn.

I bury us in the past, where memories go to die.

I let the earth make compost of all we were;

dust to dust and all that.

I release all bitterness.

I release all blame.

I let you go now, for

I did not break.

~