“Love smart.” Wasn’t that the greatest advice
you had ever given me?
That is, until you’d wheel around
and tear me up, screw me over.

Sometimes you’d surprise me:
A slurred innuendo, a hidden smile,
a kiss placed against a forbidden flower:
Tongue to lips, limb to limb,
heart to bleeding heart.

Every selfish want that you made clear to me
was merely another snap of the flame,
another lash from that barbed wire,
and as I sift through the ashes of my past selves
with gentle indifference,
a doctor examining just how terrible the break was,
I realize that I no longer desire any of that joyful nonsense.

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