He took all my razors

and buried them in the loaf of raisin bread

that sat in the very back of the freezer,

because he knew I hated raisins.



Once we even

watered our lawn with coffee instead.

If it makes you feel better, he says, then do it.



Tonight, when I turn out the lights,

I kiss him like a talisman.

Instead of pulling my shirt over my head

like he normally does, he hands me

a flower. He makes me tear off each petal,

one by one, but instead of repeating

He loves me, he loves me not, he makes me say

I will not **** myself, I will not **** myself

over and over again for every petal,

until all that's left

is a stem as thin as the lifelines on my hips.