Suture

You put me under

the knife for repair.

I stop for a moment

in the mirror I stare.


My hands grasp the

sink I wipe the mirror

clouded by the steam

so I can see clearer.


Am I really so different

now than I was before?

I try to move my feet but

stuck I am to the floor.


I try and lay still so

you might examine

my motives they

unknown threaten.


What will be left of me

when you are through?

I’m a puppet on string

do with me what you do.


I can’t see my reflection

without you in my future.

When you are done I’m

left a heart I must suture.


Be the better person you

project yourself out to be;

when I saw us together it

bled me to see you leave.


I will exact no sympathy

because you made me see

inside I am torn apart but

reveal you did you to me.

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