Little can be said
About that dress stained blood red.
Him, evil--her, dead.

I have no need to watch the time,
Or placate you for my Valentine,
Or yell out '****, that *** is fine!'
Because darling, you're already mine.
A better man I could never find
With manners, wit, and charm divine
A mischievous imp who laughs at time;
A man with the most wondrous mind.
My darling dear, I'll flatter you yet!
Until those ears hear and dont forget
That you're a shining gem, inset
In mem'ry- from the day we met.
For a thousand times, and a thousand more
You've rescued me from worries sore,
Held me gently as I scraped the floor-
Gave me love I couldn't ask you for;
Drained my sorrows and changed my hue,
Told me firmly there was more to do,
Til all the years ahead looked new
Because I get to spend them with you.
So my handsome gent
I hope you don't resent
This flattery, though true;
Because honey,
I know-
There's no one better than you.

"You are a murderer of love!" At least, I think that's how the line went. I scream this all to often. Not at myself or my lover, no. No. I scream this at the content on the screen.

The **** on my lovers computer. The **** on my lovers brain. The **** in my lovers heart. The **** on my lovers skin. The **** that poisons my lovers hard drive. I scream.

My face will never look like hers. My skin will never look like hers. My hips will never be that small. My ******* will never be that perky, or big. My stomach will never be that flat. My legs will never be that long. My hair won't look like that. My *** will never look like that.

I try to compete, but I'm left in the dust. I try to find new ways to please you, but your mind drifts to her. Or is it her? Or her? I bought that lingerie because you liked in on the model. Or did you just like the model?

You tell me you love me. You say that I'm beautiful. You said your life would be nothing without me in it. You tell me you don't want to look. You tell me you want to stop. But, I see you. I see you disappear with your laptop. I hear you roll over and say "Not tonight, I'm sleepy." I feel your eyes on me when I change, as if they were comparing.

But listen. Her skin will never feel like mine. Her laugh will never sound like mine. Her voice will never soothe your heart. She will will never care for you when you're sick. She will never listen to you sing. She will never cuddle you on the couch. She will never hold you when you cry. She will never love you like I love you.

And how I love you.

After a hard day at work
You come home to love
That God has given to you
For it came from above

Your family hugging
Your wife kissing, too
You see that your children
Really care about you

Through all of your troubles
Just to get to the airport
You come home to the unexpected...
Love, care, and support!

the first thing people would say upon our engagement is show me the ring like some bling is an ode of your love to me. i am not a homemaker i am a homebody. i excel in colombian coffee and monday night pub specials and cheap wine with expensive labels. i excel at being one of the guys and by being one of the guys i mean not being your wife. i filled the crevices you scraped in me like some kind of sculptor smoothing over past mistakes like being your wife was some kind of placebo pill i can sweat out with half-empty pizza boxes and grease stains on a couch that was never mine. when i first tell people about us about what i've done they say
but you two fit so well
but i liked you together
but you were going to get married
but but but
but they don't see your knuckles almost shaking hands with my jawline or the time i stared at you deadpan i'm not scared of you and i think that's what scared you that i'm no battered wife that i'll take you all bleed you dry then smile from the corner.
i am no battered wife like the woman who raised you
whose christmas-gifted blanket i'm currently curled under but whose 4 a.m. whispered words i cherish more he can't make you forget what you felt like your lies would forge me into the bat **** crazy ***** you christened me but what i felt in your *****-stained breath amaretto-sweet words ice-diluted eyes was i am no battered wife
i am no laying next to you in bed at 30 with kids i couldn't convince myself to want and bruises that fit your fingers on my ribs. i'll take my tuesday tequila and too-loud laughs, my scrounging for quarters for just one more cup of coffee over your stability smirks.

Our love is soap.
Our love is clean clothes on the dryer by the radiator.
Our love is coffee and cream with a spoonful of hope.
Our love is a gammon roast and a baked tater.
Our love is clean dishes and foamy dish rags.
Our love is fighting for the water in a tiny shower.
Our love is our journeys to the grocery store with all our reused plastic bags.
Our love is watching you play video games hour after hour.
Our love is lemon flavored body wash getting in my eyes.
Our love is being too stubborn to quit.
Our love is the thought of me leaving making me unable to cope.
Our love is getting up and sorting it.
Our love is soap.

3 a.m. has found me again.

I wake, startled, for the fourth time this week, the nightmare played out behind my eyes already fading from my mind. I can still feel its presence, like fog it lingers.

I have fist fulls of sheets as I lie on my back, my eyes closed. I focus all of my energy on catching my breath. I am an anchor in my dark sea of thoughts, unable to move.
Sinking, sinking...  I am drowning.

Then my husband stirs next to me.

I look at him to my left, his back towards me, fixated by his messy brown hair. I feel my heartbeat slow, my mind calm. Suddenly he is all I can see.

After a moment of hesitation, I turn towards him and reach around and touch my cold hand against his stomach. In his sleepy state, he grabs my hand and moves closer to me.

I feel the fog begin to subside, overcome by the light that is sleeping next to me. I can breathe again.