I used to carry you like my backpack, intact.
I wiped you clean with my heart.
Unmanly, she spoke,
"I need a real man."
She turned her ways and walked.
Two faces for every good girl,
two faces for every real man;
her real man, "My real man."
She finally found her mask
for every good day,
for every good word,
for every polite thing she's done.
"I love him," his work is never done;
his seduction was too deep,
a whore, he saw in his eyes,
of the woman who loved him,
her skyscrapered claims.
The predator stole the...