Here from the first time, from the day I lost my virginity, look:
I have carved out the notches in secret on this headboard.
The wood a dark brown, daintily placed  at the head of my twin bed.
The tallies face the wall, the romance is dead.

In the middle among the marks, this deeper divot,
Where the grains turn to slivers: that is the day my heart broke.
I can recount the exact moment and tell you now as I trace it over,
His name, his smile, pained me far longer then it should have.
The smaller hashes that follow, all six of them, meant nothing.
See, there is no pattern, except for the fact that they made it to bed.

Over time, as it occurred, I chiseled away not only the headboard -
But my heart.  Too many notches for my fingers and toes.
See, here, that was revenge, and here, he's now an angel.
A multitude of sin runs through it all.

See, this headboard is whittled nearly end to end;
Perfectly untouched on one side, badly beaten on the other.
Regrets have created it, tucked between the sheets.
Yet, as I make the bed I can't help but smile,
Sign after sign, there will be another.