Slam

isn’t this how the best of it should be?
or the worst?
taking the body to the point at which
it almost breaks and then returning
having had your faith restored
in the miraculous fragility
of the self
the morning we almost ended
it was your sobbing brought me back
after the endless smashing of glass
we talked ourselves together
and   the next day   still wearing the mark of your hand
on my chest as you slammed me to the bed   I found I was struggling
to swallow    every mouthful
was a labour   I became aware
of the mechanics of my own body
could feel parts of myself that would
usually go unnoticed
after your hand had slammed into my chest
I learnt the pain in possessing
capacities that are never
quite fulfilled   almost being broken
almost leaving but deciding
to tough it out
until it broke

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