I Scattered These Eggshells (A Pro-fession in Prose)

I Scattered These Eggshells (A Pro-fession in Prose)

All at once came the time it happened. I, not holding back, told you it all. Told you you were wrong for all you had done for me, even though I could have just let it slide. Confused I continued on, pressing forward, ignorant to hear any form of reason. I wanted to see sides: my side and yours- as opposite. Me as good and you as wrong, though as we continue the line blurs each day.

I went so far to continue. To push on, to continue feeling something, anything, that would help me feel on top, above what had happened and give me leverage to any day these things would come back to haunt me. This haunts me, the field I've tossed you in full of bombs and bombardments of defense.

So crazy I was, you take no chances now in your speech with me. The invisible verbal bombs could take your life, or another 15 minutes of it, if you were to step out of line. You, frozen, in the middle of a football field. Us at either ends: good or wrong, wrong or good.

I scattered them, these eggshells, and I realize now that they don't hurt you, they protect you from me. They keep you at a distance, the one I want you at, but the one I don't want you at for long.

-Matthew Koutzun