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break …

my heart?
you did not break my heart
you COULD not break my heart
I utilized all the “Yous” that came before
constructing barriers that you,
in your most formidably malodorous
and vehemently vile self,
couldn’t penetrate in an eon of eons,
whether scratching away with those nasty,
nacreous nails, (that have left their
permanent glyphic scars in my hide -
your sadistic form of a signature, I imagine),
or, just hurling your particularly thorny and
spirit-spearing versions of verbal vitriol …
(you’re quite adept at both) …
oh, by all means give yourself credit -
there are few damsels that walk the beautied
paths of this incredible earthly orb
that have your commanding grasp of
venom, malevolence and disdain,
and there are few that can hide it so
effectively beneath such enchanting
layers of grace, sensuality and feigned interest,
but, whether by karma or sheer dumb luck,
I met too many others like you 
earlier in life,
and I manufactured my walls with
care and diligence … and fierce intent …
so …
no … you did not break my heart
much as I’m sure you’d
drink that draught like cheap wine
(if you could, black crystal flutes, of course)
in fact, you never even touched my heart
nor did you know it’s chambers
or, sadly, even care to …
what you broke -
what you stomped on and smashed and
obliterated quite thoroughly,
was my HOPE …
and sometimes, in the darkest,
coldest, most contrary crevices of night …
when I’m praying my hardest,
clenching my fists to white anguish,
and wishing you straight to hell …
I wish it HAD been my heart
for it is much stronger
and far easier …

to find.







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, May 4, 2024

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