His Betrayal

I cannot escape this loss

this dumpster of time

tossed like a rotten fruit,

leaving me with nothing,

but the death smell of an empty bin.

I'm left to look at broken glass

and graffiti of lives left in heaps

unspoken.

The head of a babydoll,

my jealous face,

both carry the same message:

we have been replaced.

I cannot escape this loss.

He can afford his sins.

I will see reflections

in the bits of broken glass

as I memorize every detail

of his little face.

He has his eyes

and her wicked smile,

as if he carries a legacy

of betrayal.

He can afford his sins,

but my sins don't go anywhere,

they stick to me with a cloying sweetness

and wait to do me in.

I twist and turn,

trying to escape this legacy,

and end up finding us,

in this thing you made.

Or what is left of us anyway.

Sabine / 2008 written just after seeing pictures of their child together.