First blood,
you drew it.
Boiling our relationship down
to a business transaction reduction,
like balsamic vinegar,
the fumes a cloud of acid;
I want it back
You owe me
Take that <smack>
all for drawing a line
when your meltdowns
became too much
to bear.
When that first drop
of my blood hit the floor,
you lost any privileges
once generously bestowed;
My love
Time and energy I did not have,
but gave anyway
The marrow from my bones,
offered to feed and bolster
the insecurities that
echoed from an under-mothered childhood,
leaving me a puddle of flesh
on the floor because my bones
could no longer support me.
So it is business as unusual
at the end of us.
You chose this mode.
So buck up like
the adult you should be
and not the tantruming child
I naively brought into
my heart and home.
Buck up
and end the bloodshed.
~ Mk Michaels
