Too True for the Empty

he had to break me,
he had to bend me,
he had to call me names
until i questioned
the reflection
he couldn’t measure up to.

because i was too perfect,
too radiant,
too rare.

i had beauty without arrogance,
intellect without ego,
compassion without limits
and a heart made for holding,
not for hurting.

i was a gift..
but he called me a burden.
he called me r––d
like it was a joke,
but it was a weapon,
and i laughed it off
so it wouldn’t scar.

he needed me
to forget who i was,
so i would see him
as the mirror.

and maybe..just maybe,
he was jealous of the light
he could never carry,
so he tried to dim it
until i’d come crawling
for his flicker of approval.

he compared me to his ex-wives
like i should feel honored
to be on a shelf
next to ghosts.
like love was a hierarchy
and i should feel
lucky to be ranked.

but i never asked to compete,
i only wanted to be loved
not lessened.

now i see it,
he never deserved me.
not because i’m better,
but because he never looked
at me with open eyes
only with fear
of his own unworthiness.

and i?

i’ve always been
a sacred thing.

not too much.

just too true
for someone
who couldn’t face
his own emptiness.