You took
The best parts of me
In your palms.
Those fragile
Stained glass portraits
Of my life
Of my love
Those pieced together pictures of me
That spelled out your name
Those carefully carved wooden frames
That contained every look, every word, every touch,
Those tear-stained black tee shirts
That held the past and the future
Those weathered hands
That knew too much work, too much life
You took them all.
I had thought from the way you looked
That you had found them beautiful
Like you had found me
Cold and alone that night
Wandering the sidewalk
My heels clutched in a fist at my side.
But instead
You took them in your hands
All of those memories and things that I had built
And crushed them
Beneath your fingertips.