The first person who broke my heart
is no different than the second,
is no different than the last.
They are part of every poem,
and the little bone-holes from the gnawing.
They are the missing skin.
And the place where it healed.
Thick white lines that said goodbye to people.
They are prongs of the forks I climbed like ladders to get out of the places
that they dropped my body.
I only loved one idea wholly,
it just had many faces.
When the rubber peeled around the edges and my lovers faded into flaws,
I said goodbye with blood.
But my last goodbye – was all of it.
I took all of my blood with me.
And I stepped on them all on my way out.
Prompt was to write about the first person that broke your heart…
2 thoughts on “Goodbyes, 12”
Powerful poetry, Angel. I felt it. 🙂
Such a powerful and surprising poem. I love how you play with expectations