i tortured a love by dividing it into two,

through metal picks, sharp threads, gummy sheets, curved scissors–any weapon that i choose

they fought to become uniform,

across my forehead, inching toward the other once again, thick with want, lusting forlorn

until i pulled them from the middle,

as always, guarding that they were apart, cleaned sharp, never allowing myself to be unbridled.

but, i removed all the women before me

whose names were drawn, by a deep hand, in the dark furrow where hung my history.

now, i cooed to them, to grow,

and they are stubborn, deafened and indifferent with my worries for tomorrow.

you did this to yourself,

so they have selected to fall away one by one, through suicide and swore, until nothing is left.