Answers (From the Archives #7)

There’s a comfort in being ravaged

by the multiple hands

of near-perfect lovers;

In being chewed and spit out 

because the only feeling

it leaves you breathing

is the knowledge that now,

there’s one less heartbreak to deal with. 

Whoever said that the number game

was the act of adding on,

never understood the luxury

of taking off

what was never sown. 

So here I am,

standing tall,

feeling small

knowing that the

superficial forehead kiss

you gave my emotions

was just a way of letting me know

that beneath pretty words,

and white lies

is always a bed of glass,

waiting to teach me

how to sew up the gaping scars of

answers that never had questions.

~N.V. (written on 20 October, 2014)

Note: A chunk of a larger poem I wrote titled 'Answers'.