Dear Ex-Lover

Dear Ex Lover,

I will stop letting people

claim you are the reason

I gave my soul

to a woman,

rather than a man.

I promise to stop dreaming

of the wedding we planned,

turning into nightmares

of you holding me by the neck,

body against a wall with your knuckles

playing the xylophone against my ribs,   

hoping that it will turn to the shadow

of your figure walking the halls of our house.

Dear Ex-Lover,

I will tell her of all the nights

we planned our lives, but

never seemed to remember

that we would one day stop

breathing in sync and that last

rattle in our chests will not be

as one but as two separate beings.

I will tell her that you were

the pavement that I walked

on for support; the air

I thought I needed to survive,

only realize that you were the

carbon dioxide I could live without.

I will tell her about you.

Tell how you gave me

a washed out pigment

now blessed with color

from fingers grasping the the skin  

red streaks clawed into my skin,

nails taking my warm beige complexion

with them, fist buried in my flesh,

imprinting knuckles on my body,

fingerprinting my soul.

Dear Ex Lover,

So many times I listened to you

feed me cliche stories of “forever”.

How do I tell my daughter you ripped

the skin from my body exposing

my bare flesh and I loved you still?

I was taught “Fear no man, fear no evil”

yet I feared you dense in my bones,

my joints coated in agony,

my heart heavy with anguish.