That’s all our history is to you,
Or, rather, that’s all you hope it is for me.
too tight for proper range of motion,
Your mouth says you never meant to hurt me;
I hear your words.
But your actions say something entirely different,
Because there’s always another time.
You think you’re a knife;
you aim to slice,
deeper, and deeper, still.
But you’re not;
you’re a blunt object.
You hover, in wait,
bludgeoning hard(est) at those who open themselves to you.
You try to take advantage,
to gain trust,
and then trap,
But you’re blunt, after all;
so let’s not mistake you as sharp or keen –
You’re a one-trick pony.
You’re a bulldozer when a trowel will do,
a hammer when there are no nails.
And there are those of us who are sharper,
Sure, you hurt –
but you don’t last.
We are able to leave you in our dust.
-image via Pinterest, original source unknown