staring at the shattered glass
of my mom's wine
I dropped on the kitchen floor
thinking that deep red
looks good on white tile
and thinking maybe I deserve this,
in fact maybe I deserve to
lay on the scattered shards,
one piece of glass in the back
for lying to someone I love,
one in the thigh where he
kissed me while she was gone
for the night...
thinking I'm being eaten
inside out and it's only a matter
of time before something comes out
      about it.
twenty minutes later there's
wine on my socks and
the front of my shirt is wet,
with tears I guess,
but all I'm thinking is
guilty
guilty
guilty
I don't think
I can fix this.