I-
I undress her every weekend night.
To fill her insides with expired love & lust.
As thoughts & images of him shapeshift inside her head.
I feel like a stained glass artist.
Broken fragments after fragments, restore, recovered, painting over this mind of hers.
To hide the regret, shame, pain, & dignity,
She's thrown away for me.
He had you, you had him.
Now I have you & I don't want you.