Fables

I am running
Backwards
Paper cut by the pages of my history
That whip past me as I
Run against
The grain.

Photographic memories
That lead me to the same
Places
I’ve been before
The captured scenes of
Salty tears that collide with

Mascara,
Black streaks imprinted on
My face
The smudges are everywhere.

I have to slow
Down
I have to catch
My breath as his lies slide down
My throat and wait
Patiently.
(I’m suffocating)

There are these
words
dedicated to parts
That are too tender (too painful)
They are verbose and
Exaggerated
An effort to show that the scars that linger on my

Skin
Are just flesh wounds
Just scrapes that lie shallow and
Dormant
(Can you tell they’re so deep?)

I slowly learned we were on separate
Pages
I did not realize we were in different
Books
Me in the joy of monogamy
You in the pleasures of adultery.

I read you my
Story
And you slammed it shut in my
Face. And if I don’t keep
Moving
I will skitter over the spine
That holds it all together
I will destroy this novel of mine
Of ours.

…And perhaps that would not be
Such a bad thing
I clutch my chest and

Stop.