Deconstructing Kerrie

I’m not made of brick.
Or stone.
Not even that magical wood that stands up to years of weather and abuse without splintering or losing its varnished sheen.
Just flesh.
Blemished flesh.
Flaccid muscle.
Brittle bone.
Bruised heart.

I’m not strong.
I never claimed to be.
But you keep adding pressure
As if somehow sure I’ll hold up.

I’m not holding up.

Every moment with you brings another of my faults to the surface.

Maybe someday I’ll crack.
Tremble.
Quake.
Bringing it all tumbling down atop me.
So I can crawl from underneath.
Leaving behind the dust and rubble.
And never look back again.

I hope today is someday.