every poet has their greek tragedy

the hard betrayal

by your soft hands

exposed me.

and the door wouldn’t close,

no matter how hard you pushed,

how you held against

the onslaught of my pandora’s,

and how your irises shattered.

oh you thought in love

and in relationship

were the same

inebriation?

a foolish fantasy on your part,

on mine, a cute naivety

or an Achilles heel,

by any other name --

call it the killing spade

the shallow banks

fill with coins

fallen from your eyes,

from your mouth

because maybe

you can swim

so far and fast

away from it --

but the river is wide.