Say It To My Face

How surreal it can be when
a person breaks your heart
but does it to your face.

Comes to you all supplicant
as if you should be grateful
and proud of their stoic
strength of character?

I hate how lovers do that.

When they have the decency
to look you in the eye while
they’re pulling your heart –
still beating – from your chest.

And then they hand it
back to you like a gift,
looking so much like a cat
with a mouse in its claws
that you find it difficult
not to laugh at the imagery
even as it’s leaking
onto the carpet.

Yeah. Eff that noise.


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