Z-

He taught me pain

with his hands

the size

of my face

and

when he gripped my hips

and entered me

showing no mercy.

He taught me that tears

tasted sweeter

when saying goodbye.

And kisses

were bitter

the last time

exchanged.

He showed me a world

deluded and raw,

aggressive and hard.

And, panting,

we died together.

Little deaths in his arms.

Buried in his sheets,

I rose like a bruised

and blushing Phoenix

above him in

an angered state.

I lead him through my door

and into a world a bit more fair,

a bit more

rosy. A bit

nicer and gentler

than he’s ever been.

I made him feel

and through me

he felt better. The

pills abandoned him.

My arms enveloped him.

And I still care for him.

I wish him well

and hope he won’t lose sight

of living

ever again.