these sore fingers, and these warm beads
often cold & untouched, tucked away & enveloped by blue velvet,
wasted on someone who does not deserve it. 
the ailment, or the intercession?
maybe both. 

being the bigger man doesn't mean doing what's right,
it means maintaining civility.
i'd sooner put her between my jaws and bite down, 
leaving blood in the water. 
but a shark like you might smell the iron and salt mix together, luring you to the dump site.
i have claws, i have talons,
i have teeth that look sharp when you tilt your head at just the right angle.
there is dried blood caked underneath my nails that can't be washed out,
and there are scars on the skins of people that cannot fade.

i am dumb enough to believe that one day my word will win against anyone else's,
i am foolish enough to hope that my heart won't weigh heavier than the feather.
pressing down on the bruise just to watch you wince,
twisting the knife just to see if anything spills out.
"for how much longer?"
for as long as it takes.

growing up is reminding yourself that you can only help people who want to be helped,
and warning a motorist that the road ends in a cliff up ahead does not mean that he is going to turn the car around.
the majority of the time he would rather careen off precipice.
i don't feel bad when you crash and burn,
and i won't sit by your bedside in the infirmary.
my words, my attention are worth very little in your estimation.
that has been made abundantly clear.

abby