Secrets

He spilled his secrets
in the waning hours
as  friends sat down the hall 
in the living room,
drinking cheap wine 
and making even cheaper conversation.
He shared his heartache 
and laid his soul out before me
like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,
jagged and disjointed.
He told me about his drinking 
and the smooth white pills
which should have taken the pain away.
All of his scars and fears gripped at my chest
and made it impossible to breathe. Or think.
So I didn't,
and I let him make love to me again.