The name of this poem came after (finally) realising that far from being holistic and Zen about relationships, the subject was quite post-modern in his critique of them.


I do not care for
Your deconstruction of me,
The cold academic point,
The slippery beat of
Your self-oppressed heart.

In its sickly need
For more and more
You make me less and less

You reach out
To be made whole
Yet you take apart
What you grab

When I was in your tree-trunk arms
I did not realise
The dissection; your protection

Now I feel the cold
When I think of my black sun
The coroner of my psyche

You really did not want to build
Anything of the sort of thing
You said you saw

I did wonder how I would be framed,
You picked one thing
For your definition of me

When I spoke of my love; your beauty
You could not even say
One real thing

Because maybe you would need
To deconstruct once again
Your deconstruction of me


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