Poem: Cruelty

The curve in your spine is the only clue you have any backbone at all. What’s left – like the curl of your soul – is small. There by default, entirely your fault, drawn taught.

The crooked smile hangs slightly loose as if to admit that it’s no use to you, or anyone. It means nothing. Nor indeed do you.

I’m sorry – not sorry – but it’s true.

Just as when I …