• Push me.

    Push me harder
    onto the floor.
    Push me
    into the cracked concrete
    where the broken glass
    pieces of my heart shattered
    inside your palms,

    they lie.

    They lie
    just like your tongue
    when you whispered
    ever so sweetly
    all those gentle
    nothings into my lungs.
    How you made me believe
    your eyes were my new sanctuary,
    particularly, when we were left alone.

    but I was never left alone.
    and that was the problem
    you had with me.
    How you couldn’t trust
    the uncertainty hidden
    inside my voice.

    But the ambiguity that
    lingered on my lips
    were not lies that I etched
    into your anxious brain.
    You carved them there yourself
    after you pushed me.

    Pushed me into that
    indecisiveness you heard
    when we were together:
    Your sanctuary was my cell
    slipped behind your sly eyes.
    Your nothings were only
    poetic for a second
    up until I unraveled your riddles
    you used to wrap up
    my heart and my joy
    in a pretty little ribbon
    that I had to rip out of your
    rib cage-like fingers.

    Your fingers fell harshly.
    The hoard of my heart fragments
    you promised to safely keep
    fell back onto the cracked concrete.

    Falling back onto the floor
    when you decided
    to push me harder.
    You pushed me.
    You kept pushing me.
    Just pushing me.
    Only pushing me.

    Promise me that
    you’ll push me
    even harder next time.