Probably, I never understood it before;
it used to sound like permission,
albeit retroactive? To hurt someone.
Now it seems like that no more,
Perhaps, I went through it, I understood better,
Only a lover can wound to the core,
the level of trauma gets worse than before.
Somehow he broke me and watch me bleed,
After seeing me raw, seeing me pure,
What was your intention? Was it greed?
Why put a shard in my guts that never leaves.
What does it matter now?
What was once a whole, is now shattered,
where once was peace, is emptiness.
All I have is anger, suspicion, and an averted gaze.
And finally, when I pour myself out,
neither I scream, nor I shout;
I just say, in a prayerful whisper-
"Thank you, my dear, thank you for making me stronger, in and out."