Another Sunday Marathon

Carrie Tong

I promised you I'd be there for your blows
and accusations, ready to lie and
tell truth.   see me here?   So how do you suppose
I'm at fault with you now, wringing my hands,
blur-crazed, melty?   Kneeling Purgatory
by your chair, swelling, heaving my story.
You see me deflated, curled on the floor.
Would you believe I was stronger before,
set enough to run away?   You should have
known me then.   silent.   entrusted.   I gave
nothing.   spoke hardly. And masses, they list-
ened.   But i am not the girl you once kissed,
but a heap of mucous, flat.   Liar, you shout,
hemorrhaging my vessels.
                                         i bleed out.