Do I write better when I’m hurting?
When skin peels and my heart
Is a vulnerable weeping thing
Exposed to the air
Because you broke my chest open
Ribs removed one by one
Until all that is left is a gaping hole
And a sad beating thing and
The worst part is
I didn’t even realize I was hurting
I was a happy frog in your slow, cooking cauldron
Thinking you were keeping me warm