Potential Blindfold

 
 
She loves him.  
He is oxygen to her cellular respiration  
When air is as thin as Colorado slopes  
And hope hangs in the balance  
She is anchored by the vivid image of everything he could be  
But will probably never become  
Because the world told him what to be  
And he listened..  
 
He listened, until your caterwauls for change  
Became feint murmurs in the fading abyss  
Pseudo love making turns your fist full of intent  
Into a weak satisfied open hand  
In which he proceeds to fill with more pictures  
Pictures of a man, who never was.  
 
 
How dare you play God?  
 
His will is not with you.  
 
Your forcing A knee bone into his throat  
 
Playing operation  
 
Her desires so deafening  
 
It quiets his vibration of frustration.  
 
 
The consequence is your heart  
 
Broken  
 
Over  
And  
Over  
 
His touches are tourniquets that take a little more skin each time.  
 
He is blind to the misery he is passing you.  
 
As his erection falls flaccid  
He whispers in her ear  
Silent Rome-antics.  
She clings to dear
 
 
Her back is coated with seeds that never bloom.  
Her neck is full of hickies  
She has grown numb too  
Her legs imbued with weakness as the cycle repeats.  
Instead of Walking away,  
She asks, “Why me”?