so seldom from anger

you were stuck.

 

i was ready with my whole life to be your partner,

to anchor you on your adventures,

while, fresh from his own marriage nightmare,

he waited for your slut-dream to end,

so he could marry you under the noon sun,

no shadows

 

still unresolved,

you approached your dilemma, again,

stubbornly prolonging it (always stubborn)

until some magic could show you a way out.

you never wavered in telling me you might not choose me,

and i believed you.

we stared at it, again,

 

until i said, enough:

if this is towards the end

let's enjoy what's left

 

you

(still the penitent)

told me to be mean to you

 

so all night i lured out a parade of your orgasms,

each one right into my garrote.

i wound you tight as Arecibo,

and hoped you would ache and sting

when you snapped,

release snaking through your limbs as your sights crashed down.

i made you believe i'd never let you

and then i let you go

 

and waited for you to see clearly again