He took a hold of me

with piercing blue eyes,

like an endless ocean of disregard,

washing over me

and drowning me in self-loathing.

He took a hold of me

with massive hands

that smothered me

under the history of a vicious cycle.

He took a hold of me

with words that hit me

in the face with lacerations,

and fell to my sides,

broken,

but proven useful,

like a bee who’s stung you for its protection.

He took a hold of me,

and broke me to make himself whole again.

I’d never given him the pieces

to mend himself back together,

no,

I’m gluing them back to myself instead.

 

 

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