“I can read you,” he boasts aloud.
So, I tear-open my chest,
the seismogram of my beating heart!
I tell him quietly: “…Read me then, and read me well.”
“You Lie,” he attacks!
Grasping onto the torn-out records,
the seismic-waves of my life,
I defend: “My Truth!”
See, you raised me well,
to live day-to-day by The Richter Scale!
I have ownership over my-every-disaster:
from my-every-heart-ache to my-every-earth-quake,
from all-my-tsunamis to all-my-after-shocks.
I learned quickly,
how to s-h-a-t-t-e-r,
and how to shatter so well in your name!