Additive

I felt your stare from across the room,
smelled your reckless doom,
caught the breath of a whisper,
willing to wreck such a
lovely-humble-home
that I wove
from the flesh of my own
fingers.

I made you believe in a far
worse society of stitches,
wrapped tight 'round your mouth.
And within this damage lay a circle
Without it; another.
Another one all the same.

I was one big additive
to your picture frames.
They knew you'd
flat-out exhausted my name
and the way my body
once swayed for you.

Why my face is still there,
in your mind, before you fall asleep,
why my crying is always on key,
in range, and sitting with the pitch
of catastrophe and worthlessness;
well I
couldn't
tell
you.

That was when I existed.
And it isn't a part of me any longer.