How Two Find a Wound Nonexistent

I’d be open to surgery if I believed
the problem was solvable, but learning you
inside and out taught me that all solutions are

nonexistent,

similar to how our bond became a festered flower which
floated off into the night after that argument on your balcony
when you cursed me to hell and told me I’m just like my father,

a wound

you love to strike and slice every time the organ hidden deep
within your chest gets shattered, pieces you use to carve me up
then somehow

find

a way to bury me every time you check my phone and see her name appear
across the screen you cut deep, deeper than the distance I dig between your

two

thighs every time I go over, and as we fuck, you spit out words filthier than the mud your friends drag my name across in vain as they watch the boomerang bang us both across the head since I love you unconditionally and you love me twice as much, even when the conditions are most sickening. Leaving those who can’t comprehend, questioning

how?

By Isaiah Kye Diaz-Mays