Gemini

when you told me you were a gemini,

i dreamt of ripping you in half.

running my fingers down your body and splitting you at the seams,

id be a needle and thread, stitching you back together again and then tearing you open while you screamed to me

am i fixed?!

no you are broken,

i am still broken

standing before you, doe-eyed like bambi, breath of blood from licking my wounds.

was my insanity your puzzle piece, constantly trying to make me fit in your frame?

when your fists kissed my skin, did it feel like the final brick in your castle,

crumbling down my kingdom just to build up yours?

did you name my bruises after the things you always wanted me to tell you?

your tie so looks nice.

you are so good to me.

i am so lucky,

lucky to have these gifts wrapped in ribbons and bloody knuckles,

morning kisses of “falling down the stairs”,

and compliments purged from a chokehold.

i dreamt of cracking you open like a nutshell,

pulling out your pieces only to push them back in

so you would know how it feels to be hurt and healed over and over again.

when your lips tasted like whisky,

my golden tube of lipstick began to look more like a bullet.

as you slept softly,

these hands under our pillow pretended to grasp a gun.

and at the grocery store,

i wished that i could clip a coupon for cyanide in a bottle of mouthwash.

you kept my barely beating heart in a locked box and wore the key around your neck.

i wanted to wring your neck like i would wring the cloth to wash the kitchen floors so

they would sparkle like your eyes when you said you were sorry.

my punching bag of a body broke out of your bed but goddamn,

i forget to take your crown.

so i’ll pray for the next girl you let sit on your throne.

will you paint her purple?

will you watch the way she ticks when the doorbell rings?

i still tick when the doorbell rings.

these days, i cant tell the difference between a laugh and a cry

because you made sure that together they would sound like a symphony.

these days, i never stray from my set of kitchen knives.

i keep one in each room.

i don’t let him hold my hand tightly.

i don’t invite him in for coffee.

i don’t even let him love me.

because i can’t handle another thumbprint necklace across my throat,

and i will die making sure that you were my only gloveless fight in a boxing ring.