The Damaged: A Slam Poetry

and you were like
the sand i hold in my fist
which i never want
to be taken by the wind
i might need to open my hands
and when i do
i'd let the remains of you stay
between the lines of my palm
and feel the roughness of you
because that's the way you've always been
so rough, you created open wounds deep within me

i snapped a photo of you
not smiling but pouting
because you were so angry
about something irrelevant
but i said sorry anyway
and that is me letting you
step on my pride
but then again
i wasn't even sure if
there's any pride left in me

i let you into the sheets
let you put your arms around me
because you said you'd stay
and that you'd take care of me
but first i need to trust you
and so i did

and in the morning
i woke up at the wrong side of the bed
finding nothing
not even your warmth
but then i saw the remains of last night
that turned my white sheets into red

and you were like
the sand i hold in my fist
but now i am letting go
clapping each of my hands
to let the remains of you
slip away