The image of you running away from me into another woman’s arms assaults my brain.
A woman of no sexual threat to me, a woman who likes other women, but still she is comfort, she is home. A soft place to absorb the pain I so clearly cause you into her womb and carry your burden. I wonder if she will birth it out of her, or eat it like a cannibalistic twin, A grief eater.

Look at my hips! Clearly, I eat my grief, and I would gladly eat yours. I have eaten yours, at least, the grief you have caused me. I didn’t want this. I was attracted to your lighthearted kindness, but when my soul has walked through darkness too long, light looks like an illusion and you a mirage that eventually and inevitably vanishes.

I’m sorry if I kissed you with my darkness. Like a siren I can bewitch a man, mimic and perpetuate the light in his eyes until I can play with his flame between my fingers,
Only to snuff it out when the fire gets too hot for my hands and dark heart to handle. 

A wise man runs...he finds safety in the arms of other women,
His mother, his sister, a new lover whose tender kisses rejuvenate him,
Allow him to be a child again so he can grow into the man he wants to be,
A man that I want him to be, a man that I can never have, but a man I still want,
And thus I eat my grief!