she had considered herself
a mistress
of topiary
so it came
as no surprise
when i awoke
to the sound
of shears
in the middle
of the night
as she ran
the cold steel
across my flesh
in an effort
to carve the shape
she saw within me
to the surface

with every cut
every careful
bit of sculpting
i became
the me
she wished me
to be
never knowing
the me
i had been
was left on the floor
in chunks
of quivering flesh
until the me
that gazed at the her
in the depths
of manic creation
and the me
that she had
originally loved
were two
wholly separate

in the end
neither of us
could rectify
the before and after
so all that was left
was the spray
of blood
across the sheets
and three different
of misguided
well wishes
sacrificial hopes
as she cast
her gaze out
in the futile need
to create anew
i was left
to haphazardly piece
into something
that was
neither of things
i had been
or become


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