As many times as you reassured me –
“You are special. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
– now, there is that little nagging, that knowledge
that this was another hook in my side you used to reel me in.
Oblivious to this manipulation, I was
caught off-guard, daring to trust, reassured by
the golden presence of your support, your desire to see inside. Then,
when I stumblytripped, you strode on,
that cocky half-smile carrying you off. I, confused,
– and frankly, pretty scared –
staggered in some other direction,
the flimsy bridge made of twine still hooked in my side
slowly rotting and tearing free.