I move in the slow heat of your
tentative grip as you lead me through the maze
of cracks in you, carved open
by careless occupants of the temple you
no longer hold sacred.
I see shame in the depths of your
hurried glance as you turn away
from my steadied gaze tracing the scars
left behind by seasoned claws
sunk deep into weary limbs.
I find pain in the shattered frame of a puzzle
whose pieces have been flung into corners
of a labyrinth, well worn and beaten
by the once eager footsteps of unworthy heroes
that grew tired of your mismatched pieces.
I see you. Clinging to your patchwork heart
as you peer into Pandora’s near-empty box.
And you see you. Unworthy of my love,
punished by the pressure in your head to be held
even by those who would break you.