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.