The marks
about her neck
remind me of
'perfect'
she checks the mirror
to see if I'm
responsible
it's all backwards now
I never asked to be
(re) born as her
lover she
just took the initiative
apart
made her own rules to
become broken
bones
fit for our
wedding night
the day before the
baby arrived
stillborn
on the nightstand
waiting
for me to entrust it to
the over spilling trash with
the dawning hypocrisy of
our vows
rusting
my decision to
have the courage to
ever approach her at all
I have always been leery of
interacting with women
Now I know why.
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