My hand became yours in marriage
My mind and soul remained mine

Your family should have become mine
My family became yours

Was it that you were the first born?
First born son

I was also a first born
First born daughter

Your mother's talons had dug in deep
Not in you but me

Every look she gave
Every snide remark

I tried nice, I tried too hard
I showed my talons, and my talons were sharper

I cut deep, like a bird of prey
After all mother in law, remember

Only the bride wears white
And a man is a son until he meets his wife.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips
I need your seed to feed my need
Your taste still lingers on my lips
Your hands still feel moulded to my hips
Your absence has made the bed go cold.
Our heat has dissipated between the sheets
My greed for you makes me want
Your absence wants me to hasten your return.
I cannot call you, but I need you now.
Only you can help me regain feeling where
numbness resides, to feel the pressure of you
on me, in me. But you are not mine, I am not yours
We are both wanton ******.
I concede my place to second, no gold band upon
my hand, my conscience makes me short of breath
Indulgent, wanton, sumptuous gratification,
if thats all we are together, then fine, I accept.
But, I need you now, and always.

Rain patters on the window
hurricane winds whistle round about
my mind.
I hear the rain, amazed that the sun's rays
still fall to earth, warming and nurturing

Cocooned in a throw, I look at the room
I've lain in for three days in a pain of my making.
I've become a cliche, the madwoman in the attic
lamenting lost love, lost life.
Cruelty knows no bounds, yet it binds.

Rhythmically the rain batters at the panes.
I don't want praise, I like my malaise
I feel real when I feel pain
I lie slain on the floor, amidst the wreckage
of a marriage.

I've died over and over these last three days
I want to get up and comfort you
To tell you that your life will go on
Mine had to end. I'm sorry you found me
on the floor, tablets strewn everywhere.

Baby steps now my love
you knew I was broken,
there's only so many matryoshka dolls in the original
I'm still here my love, it's just better that
you don't see me, but I can watch over you.

Your heart is broken, filling with rain and tears
my heart and soul was broken when the ink was dry
on the paper declaring us over.
When I get up from the floor, I want you to listen to the rain and
know it's me, my ghost knocking at your door.