CheneyPoetry0 Comments

Every day I choke back more poison

to keep from choking you,

to keep the taste of days past

lingering on my tongue.

It’s not my fault you’re fallen

at my feet now, my dear.

It seems you ask me questions

that you don’t want the answers to

anyway, so why deny your suffering?

Why take away our cross?

Simple. Complicated.

You don’t deserve it. You do.

Not as in you were ever

too much for me, or not enough

but you haven’t seen enough

to want me this way,


Every day you walk away I want

to put my fist through a window

but you’d never see me, you’d

never wash the blood from my hands,

too busy now with your hiding.

I’m not going to tell you how far I’ve come

while you won’t let me take your hand

and bring you with me.

I will not reveal the list

of all the men I’ve killed to have you.

I will add you to it.

I will swallow all this time, and

I will raise my hands to the sky and apologize

for making the wrong kind

of difference in our lives.

Circa 2004

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