You are trying to piece yourself together,
Like washing away the marks will
Make the eyes leave.
But there are glass shards in curled fists,
And you know he won’t trust you anymore.
Distance is your worth,
The line between
You and the useless.
On your worst days he demands your death.
On your best he won’t let you move.
He says you are the sound of snow,
Or the careful edge of a blade,
You are his,
But you will never be a person.