I had to leave,
because pieces kept falling through
gaps of outstretched fingers, from areas
where you began chiseling me anew.
I had to leave,
because eventually you placed
a wooden handle in my palm, without worry
of me splintering from edges frayed.
I had to leave,
because when I sensed your dissatisfaction,
I turned the blade toward myself in a futile attempt
to grasp onto your affection, or perhaps attention.
I had to leave,
because when you noted my willingness
to apprentice you, your smile widened
and your eyes darkened with a relentlessness.
I had to leave,
because with your saccharine direction,
I began shaving,
I began chipping,
I began gouging,
I began breaking myself.
I had to leave,
because when you saw the battered pile
of the former me, unidentifiable rubble,
your eyes went cold with the last drop of vitriol.
We had to leave,
because there was no more of me to destroy.