Cranberries** stain your hands like the color of
Blood bright against the porcelain of your sink after brushing your
Teeth too hard. You’ve picked only the hideous cranberries because fruit shouldnt feel
Unrequited like the only love you’ve ever known. Jesus how you’d hated when they’d
Stretch in the morning followed by,” How do can I get your lipstick off my
Collar?” You’re trapped behind
Glass. You are his
Trophy but most definitely not his wife. He says you are lucky. As if you are
Charity and his wallet will give you some vast improvement in
Direction. You’ve wasted all your
Time. Your body used up. No man will want what another has had. Does he know how you
Shake in the dark when he goes
Home to her? You’ve picked out these cranberries to quench the
Hunger that starves you from love.