The past, the ever present past.
Your tongue tethers me to my sins
like a baby fastened to the nipple
The sour milk of discontent
Mea culpa
mea culpa
mea maxima culpa.
Be forgiven and go to hell
On this failed husband's tombstone write:
He made her hate him
Pray reincarnation does not exist
Sunday, November 29, 2009
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