A Puzzle Not Worth The Bother

And while you're clumsily navigating
the pieces of my shattered heart,
I'm clenching my teeth as glass crunches
beneath your precious soles.
You apologize profusely,
but I'm more worried you'll cut yourself,
again,
than about putting it back together.

You think it will be ornate,
like stained glass.
My laugh teeters precariously
between hope and disappointment;
I never fit into any church,
even when I wanted to.
Besides, I know it's a puzzle
not worth the bother.

I've crouched at that cramped coffee table,
staring at the same damn pieces,
until a million shades of a color all look alike.
I've arranged and rearranged
pieces that go together,
but refuse to fit.

When I began to fear this distorted image,
of myself,
I flipped the whole thing over.
My disgusted hiss was drowned
by the bitter clatter of dejected pieces.
Now I avoid looking at the treachery below.

But I don't have to even glance
at the pieces strewn on the floor
to see it again.
The animal,
the monster,
is writhing beneath this useless skin.
I look for the source of a growl,
only to realize it's rumbling in my throat.
So I cage myself,
afraid to lose control.

I've sat here for years,
drunk on the fumes of fermentation,
as who I was rots away.
Spewing nonsense between the bars
to my cautiously captivated visitors,
because no one ever stays,
no matter how many riddles I confound them with
and secrets I promise to reveal.

And they tell me I'll be okay,
because I never let them behind the partition beyond the door.
They don't see the nonsense carved into the concrete walls.
They don't hear me argue viciously with myself over nothing.
They don't watch me pace craters into my socks.
They don't see the strain in my fake smile.
They don't hear the hollowness in my laughter.
They don't watch me waste away a whole day.

And you promise you're not like everyone else,
just like everyone else before you.
And I don't search you for a knife
you could use to stab me in the back,
because deep down I want you to
twist it in where my heart should be,
and if I don't die I'll relish the pain,
because it's better than the apathy.

But I know you harbor no weapon or violence.
You're sickeningly saccharine,
hopefully a deterrent
for sinking my incisors into your skin.
Please don't unlock that door
lest I devour you.
Unsound in this surmounting lust.
I can conjure your scent after you leave
and the pretense of humanity is lost
in a primal need.