Previously Published on Boy Slut . . .

Tears for Her

I found you tying your self in-
to burgundy knots of sheets
and pain.  Turning/burning/churning.
I watched the darkness breathe
for you.  Could not
the stammering stop the drowning?
Bubbles of blame blew through you.
Lies.
([Wrongly] Labeled as misconstrued
communications.)  Failing
is more than an option now.  Though
broken is the pro-offered term.
Incorrect!  Assumptions
are so much harsher than the actual
face of the mirror's dark.