You break me over your knee,
splintering my soul as you say that I am the best beauty you’ve ever held in your arms,
your harmful arms,
like bombs on my landscape,
long strikes across my spine,
across the apples of my cheeks.
I make eyes at a monster,
across the darkened car,
and all I think about,
is how I had to imagine you as a nightmare,
to keep myself sane after I see the sun rise,
and I see the truth.
You are not a monster,
just a man that I let lull me to sleep,
live inside my head,
some guy that shows up at my house,
with cheap flowers.
Monotonous moments in the back of your car,
where you monologue about your inability to be monogamous,
your hands, like bombs,
on the same side of my neck,
until there is nothing but pain and wailing.