the things before me

I stared at the things before me
stereos, your leather jacket, my book of CDs
and wondered how
“I think I’m falling in love with you"
led to the police warehouse of confiscation
so that I could identify
what you took from me

did you think you could steal a part of me?
did you think you could win the argument
with a few bits of bizarre circuitry?

did you think that possession
was what this was all about
anyways?

I tried so hard to make myself believe
that maybe love lived in a faraway place for you
that maybe I could show you
that there was more worth in someone’s smile
than their wallet

I guess they caught you at a church
they said that you ran and hid in an alley
I’m torn between breaking
everything of yours that I have left
and putting it all away silently
to let time knit the wound shut

maybe you can bruise me

but you’re the one
who’s bleeding