I like to make you watch me cry

I like to make you watch me cry.

I like to go somewhere unseeing, unhearing

of ‘darlings’, ‘tell me what’s wrongs’

and other sweet nothings

—a place so far that you can’t save me from drowning.

I like to go there and cry,

while you watch helpless

as salt mountains crumble

and roll down my cheeks.

 

I like to make you watch me cry

quietly in a sort of everyday horror

while we sit at the table in silence

as if what we’re eating is just dinner.

 

I like to make you watch me cry

because it takes out my pain and all its pieces,

lays them out in a live exhibition

that you have no choice but to comment on after.

 

I like to make you watch me cry,

because after that game we just played

where you take the things you love and tear them,

darling, I’m feeling cruel-faced.

                                   

 

1887, The Open court: Carus, Paul. Open Court Publishing company, Chicago.

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