Do you ever try to let the other
have a say
do you ask them what they think
do you consider giving space
and let them play a well
he tells me I’m saturating
for others
like the heavy-handed colors
I paint in my dramas
I made poeting

He never misses a beat
to slap me
in the face
with the cutting truths
of my mistakes
I know because
he taught me
to do the same
and when I see it
I seethe with a quietly
simmering hate
of who I became
for letting him in

And then I feel
just so ridiculous
for just trusting
whatever warmth I thought
I had there
when I’m all starved
for empathy
I must have become
overbearing
company
he calls me out
mercilessly
with the lens
of his criteria
all self-made
to make me believe
how little I give
I felt so small
I’ve been crawling
ever since

He’s a cold bed of anger
and thorny needs
dressed up as a man
but he’s mostly
insecurity
and I’m the streak of color
across his bruised cheek
almost bleeding
but kept beneath
congealed
into a fading mark

He says
he never thinks
of these things
as if my words
are just
another bothersome
external nuisance
he has to deal with

his words turn
my smiles to stone
all my weighted
feelings turn to
greying shades
of bleakness
and I wonder
are we just unable
to be at peace was all the love
I thought I had
worth this