Poem

Maybe I’m at war with love

Bruised and battle-scarred
Hold my heart with velvet gloves
Don’t you squeeze too hard

Maybe you are broken too

Maybe we’re the same
Maybe what they say is true
Maybe it’s a game

I want to learn the steps it takes

Lead me through this waltz
We dance through fields of mine mistakes
Hidden in our faults

Blame and shame, like shrapnel, fly

Lacerate our hearts
I said I’d love you ‘til I die
But now the dying starts

We’re pointing bloody fingers at

Our comrade on the field
Tearing at their wounds as if
Their pain could make ours healed

I ask if we are able to

Survive another war
You used to be my hero;
I don’t know you anymore

I hated my reflection

So I shattered it to bits
The parts of you are broken shards
I use to cut my wrists