Proof, It Seems
You left your mark, it seems
On my body, as real as the
Mark you left on my soul.
Proof, it seems, of what
You did to me, or maybe for
Me. Even now it's hard to tell.
Proof. The thing I wanted
More than anything else. And now
I want it gone, off of me.
For it is your mark, your brand,
Showing the world that I was your
Property. Your plaything.
More likely, it seems, that I
Was in your way, like a trailer
In front of a tornado.
The tornado doesn't care
About the things it destroys or
The people left behind in the ruins.
It seems I was like that to you.
I was convenient, and I was a toy.
That became more fun to misuse than use.
I'll bet you were like that as
A boy, you found interesting things
To do with your toys once they became old.
It was all about interest, it seems.
When I was new, it was new to you, romantic
And gentle games held your attention.
And when they became boring, it seems
That you had to find new variations
Of the game to keep you coming back.
But, it seems, I didn't need such things
To return to you, because I believed
You when you said you loved me.
Proof, it seems, is a sword with no handle
And two points. It's a weapon to me
But it cuts and stabs me as well.