it took broken fingers to let you go,
you pulled away and broke them slow.
the nails pulled back and i heard them cracking,
and when the bones broke through
it took salt in the wounds,
still i fought for you,
but when gangrene set in
and i was suffering
holding on wore thin.

but muscle-memory is a powerful thing,
the bleeding stitches and the jilting,
the weeping was not quite the end,
the fading of your memory,
from the distance and the cruelty
of someone who can see the twisting
of mangled hands and keep the torque in motion
set me wretching,
so i unlaced my fingers
and set me free.

12/23/2010

Posted on 12/24/2010
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