Analysis of I Love You, But

You always chose the most inopportune time to use your razor, cutting, broken edge, serrated shred.

Words that slice deeply, creating wounds that never heal, seeping, scabs that never form.

That was the night I decided, standing naked, exposed to your bite, “I love you, but”, still on your breath, hanging heavily in the air.

Then I decided, it was time I walked, scrambled, fleeing, a decade of eggshells crunching beneath my feet.

Now my razor swings it’s path of destruction, lacerating roots, severing dandelion heads, unfettering their seed, releasing you into the wind.

That was the last time I heard them pass your lips, the weight of the celestial heavens lifted from the shoulders of Atlas, releasing me onto the wind.