We were sitting at a Mahogany table beneath a chandelier like starfields
The chairs were ancient and the arms had hands which
Were upturned to worship
Or maybe they wanted to hold hands

I remember the hunger most of all
The aching trembling pit in the middle of my being
I was hungry for love and
Encouragement and
Appreciation and

You stood up and walked over towards me
And set yourself upon my lap
And kissed me, full on the lips
And I’ve never hungered again

Ireregardless of the
Twice over twisted feeling
Tiffs
You looked so beautiful
Tonight

I feel so defeated and alone
I wonder if that’s how the Witch’s Weed feels
As though what it was created for makes it a target for

Shame
And I’d rather like to be done with the whole sordid affair
Wash my hands of matron meddling in matrimony and nuptials
And ask for a return to sender on helpful hints and flat mate failures

Because I’m sick and tired
Doubled over in pain and I need to be well
To protect my newly made newlywed in our
Newly made marriage bed

Please provide so I can provide