the ghost of my devotion stood on trial for you,
role of lawyer in place of victim taken in stride, in strife
i stood by your side fighting for your name while you tore mine down in exchange

i pleaded to the court not realizing the judge and jury had my face
self defense, i claimed
pointed to the scratch on your chest i had left
the one from trying to reach for your heart,
the one for which a bandaid would have been enough

i remember marking you first, remember feeling criminal for it
brazed for life sentence, but still kept gauze ready to treat it like a bleeding artery
there was so much blood in my hands i mistook for yours
drips down my wrists dry and forgotten, blood i recognize now as my own
i hurt you and you killed me, made it look like my own doing

all is fair in love and war. was my excuse
i think they’re one, the way they wound, inevitably

my argument fell apart when the accusant lawyer came forth with the autopsy and sad eyes strikingly like my own
blunt force trauma, mismatched gashes and cuts
post mortem wounds, bruising all over
what you did to the body, after the fact, that was irredeemable
your cruelty kicked and punched, a trail of evidence of hatred undeniably left behind