Shrapnel

Cradled by fists
rather than palms,
wide open to hold
my little red heart,
your love only a tool
used to silence a crying child
used at the right moments,
used, just like me.

Fishing wire and tackle
litter my memory of you.
Kodak memories
shoved into a dismal childhood
making a minefield
out of my head,
knowing that at any moment
my innocence could become shrapnel.

I excuse you,
rationalize for you,
stay silent for you,
let your actions speak for you,
and you ignore me,
forget that you know me,
stop from loving me,
and, like a coward, blame me.

If you never touch me again,
it'll be too soon.