It Isn't You, It's Me

it's the way I notice the smile never reaches your eyes

a Picasso too terrifying to interpret

it's not what I hear you say

but what I don't

what you won't

and my ears have never been so cold

it's how when you say my name

you break your teeth as though chewing on rocks

and I can feel the shards in every part of my being

my name, like an accusation in your mouth

demanding atonement in snarling tones of

condescension and resentment

for wrongs, both real and imagined

but never named

killing me both with your words and your silence

you the shameful, I the shamed

you the blameful, I the blamed

it isn't you, it's me