we fit together, you and I: not a puzzle but the hands and the scythe

 so the dimming light showed me

your silhouette on the water, 

outline of a hand reaching out

fingers rippling and stretching

toward me, to burrow further into

that hole you left in me, that

sickle-shaped wound your fingernails 

fit into so nicely; 

the shape of an agoraphobic

becoming a pretty ornament for your mantel-piece, 

 

I wrap myself in my blanket 

and lay at your feet, 

resigned to dying a slow death

in this watery grave

It wasn't harsh enough, 

what I threw your way, 

It will never be enough 

and I am unhappily here to stay