She washes the dishes... Cryin. He just broke her heart. That's all that's on her mind. Oops she drops a glass... It shatters. Her mom walks in screaming. WHAT DID YOU DO YOU IDIOT! CLEAN IT UP. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOUR! WHY ARE YOU CRYING! I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT YOU LITTLE PUSS! and she swings, slapping her hand across the girls face.. Once twice three times. GET UP. STOP CRYING! CLEAN IT UP! Closed fist this time she hits the girl again. Twice. Once in the cheek and the other busting her lip. Blood drippin on the floor the girl cleans up the glass. Bruises and a fat lip she cries lookin at herself in the mirror. Her mom walks in... Looks at her and sighs. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard. It won't happen again if you straighten up. And she walks out. That's what she said last time the girl thinks to herself. And the time before that. But i deserve it don't i? I keep messing up. I'm stupid. I cant do anything right. And she shuts off the light, crawls in bed & waits til it ends.

(inhale)

tears begin to flood my face like a cup left under a running faucet well after the water has reached the rim,

my heart leaping to my throat,

getting caught,

squeezing,

twisting,

tearing.

my throat contracting around the emotions that threaten to leap up & out of my lips,

my stomach

rumbling,

wrestling,

knotting,

my hands quiver as I reach up to blot the tiny teardrops,

leaving footprints down my cheeks.

the path that awaits me

suddenly seems like a pilgrimage,

one foot,

next foot,

step,

step,

I see you.

(I see her.)

you smile.

I smile.

(she leaves.)

you ask how I am.

(I lie.)

I reply that I'm fine

(even though my heart has just crept up into my mouth & is jumping up & down on my tongue like an Olympic diver waiting to hit the water).

I want to say that I miss you,

let you know that every moment I'm awake I thin of you.

I want you to know that I miss you arms,

your smile,

your lips.

I want you to know that

(I'm incomplete)

my body hurts,

my soul bleeds.

I ask how you are

(hoping against all hope that you'll tell me what I want to hear).

you reply,

(your answer not including that you miss me, that you miss my arms, my lips, my touch).

my eyes attempt to strip you down to your soul

(searching for what I once knew so well).

they get lost,

(but find their way back to reality when they graze over the [ever-fading] hickey, just above the collar of the shirt she bought you).

my heart leaps off the end of my tongue,

wanting you to see the way you've hurt me

wanting you to hurt the same way.

it (my heart) falls to the ground.

(she calls you.)

you hastily say good-bye,

(as you trot over to her)

stomping,

squishing,

mutilating

my vulnerable, fallen heart.

(not even pausing long enough to scrape it off the bottom of your shoe, like a discarded piece of gum.)

she wraps her arms around your neck,

brings her lips to yours...

(your ears still turn red.)

people pass, as if I don't even exist.

(I want to cry, scream, shout.)

I want someone to find my heart,

bring it back,

piece it together.

I turn away,

hoping that one that it won't hurt

(as much)

and hoping that I will again be able to call you

and have you come over to me,

be able to buy you shirts that match your eyes,

(and leave the telltale hickey just above the collar)

and will still be able to make your ears turn red from the friction or our lips.

I walk away,

knowing my heart will not follow.

(exhale.)