There were two of you?  Perhaps.
playgirl and genius.  Both disrobed
professor and viper, in a pageant

So easy to judge because we
love to judge
Because you left behind so many notes.

Asleep under the house, your hibernating
heart cracked open with a chisel
miraculous, begging for lobotomy

Both frantic in the guts and chambers of
a big apple, you choked,
spat it out

Wove a shroud, a mask of letters
for your mother, you
rehearsed and edited life

Paced the street in brutal ice that
froze all the pipes, burst others,
looking for a phone booth

The switch board doesn’t know
where to send your calls
You have no tolerance for pain

Two of you?  Perhaps.
but it took only one oven and
neither called for help.