About you, I have written sad sonnets

spilled a dry laugh

and grinned through my vomit

I have known many a man

but nothing close to what they call you


Your eyes blankly idle, lost as I crawl

Your object missing title, blinking as I fall

knee bound; digress and clenching

wiping the tears around

face down; regress and progressing

tearing the seams out


I  do for you crumble

you manage to chew

And there are trophies for honor

and pride in it’s whitest sting

but a man is what you offer

a woman I am

trapped in your death string

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