day 2: mie

There's that kabuki play I learned about in college,
where a commanding officer was trying to sneak the prince he served through an enemy checkpoint,
and to prove that he wasn't the prince they were looking for, he had to beat him;

And when the company had made it safely past,
he was twisted up
wrought and wringing.
He wanted to kill himself, I think,
for beating his liege.
The prince forgave him.

Which one am I?

I have taken your skeleton apart
exhibition for every new friend that gets close for the first time
bone by bone
I wave your femur around and leave holes in the drywall
My only rage.
My only excuse for rage is you.

There are things I will never get past.
I can tell people all I want how high-road I am
And that you weren't going to be happy with me anyway,
obviously.

The only way you can help me is if you leave.
Like, really leave.
Like, die, you sunnavabitch.
But you wouldn't, would you?
I'd just be forever crying out to you
And leaving little notes in the inside windows
And dipping my finger in ketchup to write a message on the counter
in hopes that when I return from the day,
you'll have replied in some form.

I go crazy over the honest one.
You called me 'friend' in your apology.
You couldn't have split me more cleanly with a duller blade.

-Dana Winter