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Did she perceive his guilt
through the feeling of loss for seed spilled
outside of her womb?
Outside of their room?
Outside of their home?
Lovingly consumed as if owned
by the consumer.
Hermetically sealed
by discretion to perfection –
generating no rumors.
Did she see through him
like a vampire’s reflection?
Even sans physical proof,
still drawing connections
in between dots in the air
she’s not even sure are really there
to be linked by her intuition’s ink.
Yet, she can’t help what she thinks.
Squeezes out pain with each blink;
her face like she walked in the rain.
Heart valves pumping disdain
throughout her person.
Anger surging like seas in hurricanes.
Silently cursing his name
at the top of her lungs inside of her brain,
until he comes barging through the door.
Dropping his things on the floor,
he says, “We need to talk.”
For a change, initiating instead of evading,
and she finds the prospects devastating
because it’s not going down on her terms.
-HymnAgen
