I left my soul on your floor last night. 
Battered, and cold. 
The cracks in the tile cradled my scarlet letter, safely. 
Your hands strong; sweet.
I was certain that this was honest—
perhaps naive.
But today is tomorrow,
and I see myself through the looking glass
anew, bruised, and unfamiliar.
And you smile right through me.

I don’t see you through the sunlight any longer—
no misleading kaleidoscope lens.
Your face has changed in my hands,
and I feel stolen.
Africa, Buffalo soldier.
Take me home,
city road,
subway cars.
Innocence faded into memory,
left just as quickly as we came,
and I was stranded, searching.

I should’ve known.
Dishonesty runs deep in you,
like red blood through blue veins,
slowly pumping.
No beat; off beat—
rhythmically un-intertwined as I was.
Your body, cold—
I can’t seem to locate where your heart is—
on a midnight train to Illinois,
back, to where your truth lies.
Back, to where you fell for her,
and I fell through the cracks in your smile,
the space between your arms,
front teeth,
parted lips,

My legs, open, and broken.
Soiled sheets and aluminum wrappers
making new homes in trash cans.
And my eyes,
like cracking levees,
speak more than any words
muttered, or moaned.

I’ve wronged more people than counted caskets,
over years, in your city—
never on purpose.
Staring into a sea of knowledge,
I will never understand premise of a bold-faced lie,
when you had me.
And the memories of the last time
flood back heavily, like tidal waves,
or burdens.
When the word no was etched,
by my own hand,
onto the inside of my thigh—
as to never, ever forget to hone the strength to use it,
to change things,
like that last time,
when I couldn’t find the words to speak.

You looked at me,
right in the eyes when I melted into you,
and I’m wake up on mornings,
drenched in sorry
that I ever introduced your hands to the warmth of my body,
only for you to leave abrupt,
and me, twice as cold—
you, unscathed.
As I,
breathe in poison to avoid skin abrasions.

Promises made are never kept on lonely nights.
I never learn from my mistakes.
I never grow from choices I’ve made.
Just sink, further,
under bed sheets, covers.
To wake up the next morning,
full of regret,
searching for my face under artificial light,
only to remember,

I left myself on your floor last night,
and will never be whole again.



Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741