what is a masochist?

when i found you last week, you were pressing the lips
of a broken bottle to your face, tracing a line of red tears.
when i asked why you did it to yourself, you said

‘i like myself better this way.’

when i saw you in the hallway, you held the hand of another
whore, and she held the keys to your heart.
when i asked why you did this to yourself, you said

‘i like myself better this way.’

when i called you three days ago, you were crying while you smothered
your mouth with your own hands, bruising the curves of your lips.
when i asked why you did that to yourself, you said

‘i like myself better this way.’

when i took you out for a drive yesterday, you kept yourself away. you stayed
quiet and bit your tongue till it bled, but your black eyes never left my body.
when i asked why you do this to yourself, you said

‘i can like myself better this way.’

when i came to your house today, you were tying ropes around your
neck. your floor was covered in ‘i’m sorry’ notes, all folded and unread.
when i asked why you were doing this to yourself, you said

‘i will like myself better this way.’

when i opened your note that said my name, it was still damp with tears. it
said all the things you wouldn’t say, all the things you wouldn’t do, and all the ways
you could have hurt me, but you didn’t because i would change, and

you liked me better this way.