this is based on a ficlet i wrote about barry zito (oakland a's left-hander), mark mulder (former oakland a's/current st. louis cardinals left-hander) and zito's ex, who's the boss tartlet alysaa milano.

he doesn't know his own strength.

he leaves fingerprint-shaped bruises
on her delicate, parchment-thin skin
from when they last made love.
he counts the marks on her skin
like rosary beads;
he loves too hard, she bruises too easily.
he doesn't know his own strength.


he leaves your soul twisted and warped,
like the mangled reminder of a car crash
on the side of the highway.
he laughs like he's never been in love before;
everytime he looks at her it's like he's never
seen her before, and he's reinventing new ways
to look at her,
and you feel a little piece of your soul die inside.
and he still doesn't know his own strength.