I thought you knew my heart.
You certainly should have, because
I handed it over, piece by piece,
in return for crumbs from your table,
trusting they were your best offering.

"I don't want to think badly of anyone,"
I told her.

But after opening so many doors,
choosing vulnerability over and over
until I was powerless...
to then be so grossly misjudged?
It hurts.
I'm embarrassed by how much.

I really thought I was tougher than this.
The thrill of connection was worth
dancing with flames --
burns and blisters be damned.
At least the ache is familiar, I thought,
But this -- this went deeper.
And sometimes I manage to get angry,
but mostly I'm just
sad and broken.

"So, you'd rather think badly of yourself?" she replied,
and the question still has me speechless.

Written by brokentitanium (k.)
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