watch the breath; her nerves are shot
her hands fall limp fluid unlike
your putrid fuck—you've made a fuck
made her a fuck in your head because
you can't stand
losing grip—the choking one around her neck
and the suffocating around her heart:
the blood rush is not for you—the gush
is for humility, humanity,
paradise swiped by the clutches
of sickly torment: do you notice
how she says nothing? do you see the look of none
in her eyes? can you see her personhood poured out
with blood and tears?
your bones rattle as chains—your skin scrapes
as jagged rocks on a booming shore.
her skin soft, your muscles hard
her moment dead, she left weeping bitterly,

listen; know; hear;

what will she tell her son?
how will she warn her daughter?
how much of her feeling is lost?
it replays: a spotlight, an empty stage
two in—one out; one acting dead
but so much alive
that moment: alive
your lips, groaning those words
now so seemingly dead

when she hears those words
that you grunted as you kissed her clammy lips:

i love you

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