paper-bag balloon

heart,
he has turned you
into a paper-bag balloon
easily fluttered
easily crushed

easily explosive

explodable

things my mother taught me - I

my mother taught me

to leave when no one’s looking

when there is no danger

of being stopped

or getting caught

she left past midnight

three children in tow

attempting an escape

along dark beaches, rail tracks

heart pounding

but I say

leave in the light

before being left

leave when it is least expected

– that’s when no one’s looking

some mornings

some mornings

I wake up broken

wash the blood

from the sheets

after he goes

they do not dance

in the breeze

or dry stiff

in the hot sun

but seethe in darkness

beneath a ceiling fan

swirling slowly,

heavy,

bearing witness

to too much

kite

you let me go

like you let go

of a kite

like I was nothing more

than paper or string

unravelling

nothing worth keeping

nothing worth saving

nothing