all you make me feel is tired

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you didn't break me down a-swinging mallet through glassy heart
piercing trumpet through jerichoian wall- i didn't crumble
asunder into a rocky puddle
in smithereen pieces, i won't
take that long to be
put back together again

nah- you are a cheese grater,
you wore me down slowly.
bit by bit the idiocies from an
abrasive mouldy-white tongue
shaved down my resolve. i was
a mineral salt pillar like a stalagmite
and i stood fast to my foundation but your
worming words peeled layers off my patience.
sensibilities on footloose grain,
rolling off my shifting skin. you ate
at me with things i wouldn't
call lies because you don't
deserve the glory of
a conniving scheming heartbreaker,
there was absolutely not a single
whisper of thought
behind the black pits of your eyes
when you spat reckless letters strung together slathered
in your stupid stupid saliva;
i let myself
tremble to boiling point and
erupted, righteously(?), but
it was all just little pebble grains
pelting uselessly at your thick skull

it was easy to recompose myself when you left.
sorry to disappoint.
the earth opened up its flowering arms and
engulfed my legs in moss and dew,
petals leaned onto my dry skin in gentle caress.
the earth regrew me and i into its guiding embrace, my fern hair lifting in the wind,
soft chin held up by the sky's cool fingers,
drizzle kisses my cheeks in blesséd sprays.

you were belched out by a poisoned volcano
with no appetite for
another unformed clayey boy
so your skin may look hardened, forged by fire,
but you are ashen and sooty and all
viscous and weak at the core.
your heart is iron, not gold
which makes your will strong, i suppose.
does that temper your insecurity enough?

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