For Robbie

he spoke to me in latin and french,
in russian and spanish and verbs.
he spoke in delicate purples and blues,
through guitar strings strung too tight,
through clouded glass, murky lakes
and sultry wine. he said:
_{{youarebeautifulyouarebeautifulyouarebeautiful}}

he loved me with clenched fists and jealousy,
with frozen peas and flowers and neat
handwritten pleaseforgiveme's.
he loved in winter, spring, summer but never fall.
he loved in obscure poetry and lies
and in broken bones and popped blood veins.
_{{youarebreathtakingiamtakingyouarebreaking}}

now the bathroom mirror speaks to me
in jutting ribs and sharp hip bones,
in tiny red screams across pale skin
mottled black and blue, he says:
_{{youarebrokenyouarebrokenyouarebroken}}