did you love him
before they came to you?
when they asked you
what it would take
to put your lover in the ground?

did it rip you apart
to deceive him?
the first,
the second,
the third time
he lied to you?
the final time
you lied to him?

delilah,
did he love you?
or had he kissed
too many women
to remember what
your name tasted like
on his lips?

perhaps,
you loved each other once.
perhaps,
the night you held the blade
to his hair,
you ran your fingers through it
one last time.
pressed kisses to the lids of eyes
that would be gouged out,
tears marking a path
on the wrists
that would be shackled.

they don't tell your story
like that.
was it hard, delilah?
choosing your people
over your lover?
knowing that he
would make the same choice?
realizing that maybe
love was equal parts merciless
and hopeless?

delilah,
were you not,
in the end,
a prisoner too?