Marriage Is Weird

I used to contort myself 

Twisting to keep things interesting

Now I touch myself 

Thinking about a ghost 

A version of you 


I felt once like a goddess

I was the altar you worshipped 

My toes curled 

When your tongue 

Spoke honeyed words 


Now my heart flutters less

It sits like a cold stone 

Waiting for a quirk of your mouth

A casual touch 

A volunteered missive


I think sometimes

About cutting myself 

To feel instead

I cut my hair 

To feel different




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bedheadisme
Poetry
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Synopsis
No one prepared me for marriage. I expected hard work - not the systematic chipping of myself.
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