in her blissful

entirety I despised

her, yet my love for

who I was when

the cramps had stopped

prevailed

a rogue supplement I must not speak of

bad, rude spine at the root

of it all

I am that scythe

I am that scorn

the livid sheet near the stove

remains: my virginity

was in the way

I wouldn’t say no

to the vibrant

heritage of our smeared

story

if

please, keep me alive

for just a moment

longer to cherish the reason

you made me cry