Hunter, do you need beautiful things so much?

To steal the pearl,

you must first break the shell.

Split the silver and

pull it apart with the strength in your hands.

I am the softest you say but

I gave you the knife, slipped it into your hand with a smile.

Was I really so dangerous,

cradling your head in my hands and

tying up your secrets with ribbon.

If you couldn’t stomach seeing me ugly

why choose your sharpest arrows

to teach me how you love.

I had only my throat to defend myself.

I know the colour of night from your bedroom

but you laugh and say, ‘so do many’.

Do you tell me I

am the risk you cannot take

from the warmth of some undeserving bed?

I nearly forgot to write the question mark

but there is an answer and I must know it.

If misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows

then you reap your pleasure masterfully,

from a bountiful supply of

pain and suffering.

The monsters on your back

all look the same to me.

I recognise your face in every one of them.

And they hiss and snarl and lie

as I reach blindly for the real one.

My splintering bones crying out,

to fit the idea of who you thought I was.

A Roman siren, who seduced you first.

Cruel and unfeeling until the end. But

there is sand underneath your fingernails

singing  loudly of another truth.

Because the sailors we have drowned at sea

dived in to catch us first.

Forgive me for the things I have not done.

And for thinking the palm of your hand

was a safe place to sleep.

You have left me heartless,

for mine is in your chest. Doing the same work as two.

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