Part of her skull
is dented,
filled with foam.
It is where you rented,
and lived for awhile.

Uncontrolled proliferation
of cells
like rabbits
or people
destructive and useless.
That is what you are.

I gave myself
the same haircut he gave her
but since no one
understands,
I cover it with the rest of my hair,
"Hire me,
I'm normal.
No, I didn't save her hair that day."

Lies.
I memorize the texture
of the dent
of her hair
of things and spaces
that you ruined.

Did you take
her to make
me stronger?
Make me suffer a little longer?
A little harder?
Did you want me to barter?

We said,
"At least it isn't GBM."
White coat replied,
"No, because now you get to watch her die
slowly."
This isn't dying,
this is living.

Was that what you wanted to tell me?