for me. I thought you knew that
from the way I sit, cross-legged
in expensive restaurants. From my
bare-footed teaching, my love
of mud, my insistence on orange.
When you sat gently across my bed,
I thought you saw the roots I will not
yank, the pride in cowdung. You saw
the cracks in my heels, never dreaming
you’d exploit them. I gave you
my whole. You couldn’t resist
breaking. It was always ruins
over castles for me. I thought
you knew that.