She keeps hijacking the most pure
Of my metaphors
I wonder if she
Sells them in slavery
To him;
Forced into prostitution
To the ****;

Who sells their own children
To their lover/business partner?
My only weapon is now
Saying the truth out loud

She offers him stolen
****** expressions
as sacrifice
but they were mine
I grew and nurtured them
I fostered and guarded them
And she took them away

They were merely thoughts
in my garden with osseous walls
I showed them to her,
gave them her tears
and her smiles,
gave them her names;
She picked them and ran,
claimed them not even
all for herself…
but for him…
the foreign body

This is merely one
in a line of treacheries
and I will no longer
allow her to fall
any further
into this monstrous
scar of transgression.