I rewind and replay the words he used to pick the lock on my heart
, of which he said I deserve more. Deserve
alone is a powerful word, like a gust of wind that sends you skating downhill
. Open sesame
. And I wanted you
. He knows what words open doors, these after months of locks, defeats and paranoia.
Half of seeing, and most of believing, lies in giving up
. Your eyes drift out of focus. Everything I ever sought I found when I quit looking
, or long after. God hates the needy most of all.
This time I need all I'd thought I should give away, and can break
what I'd held onto overlong: distortionary mirrors and nicknames, trinkets, blades, blurred photographs and representations. When he grins it is a thousand-word story
, punctuated by dimples and eye contact
s. He knows when to look, and when to look away.