Serrated Knives

I should have known that your words

Were never meant to be poppy petals

Across my tear-weary, red-rimmed eyes

But a serrated blade across my belly.

.

It wasn't a shock to the mind to hear

Words with rough, rusted edges as they

Tore through the soft underbelly of trust.

It was a shock to the flesh though.

.

A jolting, ugly thing that moved through

In jagged lines of inescapable lightning,

It ruined the pretty picture of who I was

And left only a shredded body behind.

.

This was never meant to be a comfort.

It was meant to wound me badly enough

That the ambition would bleed out of me

And get washed away by the rains.

.

Congratulations, your words hit their mark.

They tore a scar around my soul that wraps

Like a belt around my waist and I will not soon

Forget the tearing agony of that knife.

.

I am sorry I ever took shelter in your embrace.

Sorrier still for letting my blood spill without

Any effort to scoop it back up but that's

Just the way of the serrated knife, isn't it?