I thought you were Superman, come to save the day. Unbreakable.

I thought you had all the answers; and all the good intentions. You were strong and handsome and I was convinced you had X-Ray vision; having seen through me completely. My vulnerabilities.

I thought you were Superman, come to protect me. Unshakeable.

So I thought you were the one to rely on: your strength, when I was weak; you were going to prop me up and keep me standing tall.

I thought you were Superman, come to protect me. Incredible.

I thought wrong. I thought you were a better man. You squandered my trust and took my heart away. Broken and shattered. Alas, you were just another everyone-else: an ordinary man. Or worse. Because you were Superman, and now you’re not.

You’re just you–stinky, rotten, shallow you. I smell your stench and want to hide from it. A lifetime of you to scrub off my skin.

© 2019 b.cisek