Cleave

She was willing

to split herself

in two

but he wasn’t.

And ain’t that

a goddamn metaphor.

Ain’t that

just like a woman,

to cleave herself

in half,

fracture her body

along the fault lines

of his ambition,

bury her seeds

in the soil

of his garden

and pray

he water them

enough to bloom.

And ain’t that

just like a man—

to notice

but choose not

to see,

to see

but opt not

to comprehend.

To accept her sacrifice

as expected,

as necessary,

as penance,

his due.

To take

without considering,

how much he asks,

she give.

3 Comments

    1. Camryn

      Thank for reading and thank you for the Follow! I checked out your blog as well and your content is beautiful. Cheers to the beginning of a long & beautiful blogship.

      Like

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