I like to wonder
what he tells her
when they whisper and speculate at night
surrounded by their ground
believing that she hates me
that he made her, too
makes it easier to force hate for them both
it's hard to think about
her silver bowls and salty popcorn
hishands making all sorts of art
hands making me
as easy as converting to a new god
as easy as anointing her parchment brow
with holy water
it's easy to teach the weak to hate their own
he gave to her and he took from her
and in the end she chose temporal heaven
fake smiles, comfort, her castle and her quiet
over restful nights, family Christmases and peace of mind
I wonder if I wouldn't too
I feel betrayed but I can't begrudge her anymore
to fall asleep in my lover's arms
to dreams fitful dreams and maybe
I like to think she cries
when I feel vengeful I wish he'd die
mentally, so she'd be burdened with just a silvered vessel
and all the pretty treasures
everything she's ever wanted locked away.