No More

​They asked why I married
I say because his hands
Stings like a bee,
His palm is tattooed
on my cheeks.
His footsteps are carved
In my ribs.
How can I explain
That I had lost myself
Long before he married me
Long before I sold him my soul.

They asked why I stayed
I say because I know only
His voice
Burning through my confidence
Like a discarded cigarette
In a field of dried hay in december.
How can I tell them
That I had lost my ears
To the voices in my head
Before his voice pierced
Through the wax.
How can I explain I am
No more.


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