There is a photograph of  you and that man.
You: in a dress we shared -

Looks better on your frame anyway.
But when you're standing next to him,
Forgive me, if I wrap you in thick black sheets
Of Kevlar.

Because that frame has been shattered
And I don't have enough glue left for the next time.
Because there
Will
Be a next time.

Long bare legs and pouty lips, your hair; dark, and mine
Lank; I can't sleep.

I'm afraid for you.
I'm afraid of him.

I'm sorry I couldn't do enough
To break you apart -

I'm sorry it's not what you wanted
I'm sorry your whole family adores him -

I'm sorry I can't - won't - be there any more.
On that we agree.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.