Every man I’ve ever been with is like my father.
I just never know how until it ends.
And you are no exception.
And you are selfish.
And you have more faces than you let on.
And you use and use and think only about yourself.
And you’re gentle.
And the slime in you is sneaky.
I recognize it, like I always do,
just too late.

I want to tell you
that I’m not toothless, I’m merciful.
I want to tell you
that I’m angry and hurt
but not surprised.
I want to grab your face
and take and take and think only about myself.
Siphon the heat from your body,
make it my own and shove fistfuls in my pockets
for the cold October walk home.
But I don’t.
...