Break my body --
hold my bones.
My life: the ashtray.
Leave your gum,
leave your cigarette,
I can't win, really.
I'm someone's favorite, but not really.
I'm someone's wife, but not really.
Crumpled newspaper, the taxing of my youth,
I waited until the headline ran,
until forever became a hypothetical.
"I want you to be
the mother of my children," he said,
and then he locked the door.