If you ask me how I feel, I would tell you
I feel betrayed.
Betrayed by the warmth in your eyes,
the soft feeling along your jawline.
I feel betrayed by the body you shared with me,
by the arms that promised protection
and offered comfort.
I feel betrayed by the body pressed against my own,
by the words that rolled off your tongue,
the gentle kisses and your touch.
I feel betrayed by your silence,
by the years.
I was betrayed by your ability to hide
to make yourself invisible to the truth
and push against my mirror.
I feel betrayed by your guilt,
but this betrayal resides elsewhere…
Your betrayal resides elsewhere…
I feel betrayed by my own self.
By the flesh that stands before me,
by the tears that well and roll.
I feel betrayed by this body that longs for you,
that trembled against your touch.
Mostly I feel betrayed by myself,
by my own sadness and sensitivity.
By my weakness and wanting.
I feel betrayed by my body,
this solid flesh before me,
that holds me up and buckles from the pressure.
This betrayal of yours,
this betrayal of mine,
you opened the door,
and ushered in this life.