Do you know what it means to butcher?
To assault, to inflict,
To incite, to enflame?
To maraud in entirety?
To usher the kind of, “****,”
And with one word, maybe two,
Wherein even butterflies bleed
Amnesia –
And so,
She's ill and wrought under cover,
In between legs,
Pushing,
Pulling,
Throbbing,
Coming,
Crying,
Wanting, and crying again.
Tears atop whimpering the,
“Other’s,” name,
But screaming for
One, the only, “one,”
The lonely, “one,”
Solely one,
Done, and the one broken
Promise – I’d never come home?
And so,
I should have been jealous,
But I wasn’t.
I should have murdered,
But I couldn’t.
In their stead,
I silently tucked that knife
A little deeper
Mumbling, “sorry,”
For the first time in years
And making good on fear –
“Good bye,” and ensuing long walk away.
* Sticks and stone break bones, but words can mutilate a soul. This is a piece of reckless abandon - I never knew why I couldn't settle down, I couldn't sit in one place for too long. Either way, I'd wondered where'd she went after writing this nearly a decade ago. I was happy to find that she's married and quite possibly far better off than I.
