When the stars fell
you packed my shirts
pants
sneakers
bras and underwear
and called me
a piece of shit
The glass frame you punched didn’t shatter or smash
it melted around your knuckles and made you feel more like a man.
it made me small
scared
and even more breakable under your arm
You always hit me hard enough to crack the bone just below my eye—
but not hard enough to turn it purple
or blue
or black.
But now we’re older and this relationship has shriveled up
with the laughter and schoolyard games
I never remember you allowing me to play.
It’s all turned to forgotten rubble.
There are no praising passing words
no memories that haven’t collapsed under pain
no rosary beads left to rid me of your haunting voice reassuring me
that without you, I’ll die
alone on a sheetless
stained, lumpy
twisted
mattress.
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