He
He toys with my affections.
But I don’t know if intentionally
or by accident. He holds my
heart in hands that I know better
than my own. Fully aware that it beats
only for him. Squeezing it ever so slightly,
so that it’s performance increases.
Dollar signs billow and gleam
from the shine of a smile that rivals
the brilliance of the Sun.
It was the smile that made me
fall for him in the first place.
It obstructs my breathing,
rambles into my wayward
thoughts and melts me
from the inside. And he knows it does.
This has been happening, for years now.
He holds my heart in his hands.
Turning it capriciously.
Glancing upon it from
every angle, while marveling
at the handiwork of his destruction.
I’m angry and ashamed, until I’m not.
Because, God help me,
I love the way he holds it.
Cover photo by Bernadetta Watts
