July 25, 2021

My Heart may be Bruised but you did Not Break Me.

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.


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