Chocolate disappointment

 

The sun is spinning

as I

step out the front door.

My hair.

greasy.

Like slivers of dried fruit,

it falls.

 

Slowly,

I walk.

 

My weight

is light, and my chest

open.

 

And,

 

the middle of my body,

pulling me

like a puppet.

I run,

to him.

 

I run.

my feet,

punctured,

stained,

from the small rocks

that penetrate my soles.

 

I

crack his door.

 

My body,

coiling,

as I see,

 

boxes of cookie wrappers,

2 pints of ice cream, spoons of

compulsively

devoured

food.

 

A pattern.

 

Why didn’t he reach for me,

Instead?

 

His mouth smeared with

chocolate and

disappointment.

His eyes apologize.

 

Like his

promise

to me,

 

I break.

 

He

did

it again.

My chest drops

into my feet.

I thought the last time was

the last time.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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