Thought I was 

a visionary:

That we’d be good;

Not ordinary

But I am I, and you are you,

despite plans and expectations,

Truth was truth–I was secondary

And life is life, 

so I walked away

Used all those years 

as a cautionary:

When it comes to love,

follow your heart, not your head

Insist the one 

laying beside you in bed

Will hold you dear

Honor you nightly,

And by day, 

will smile brightly,

Because they know 

how precious you are 

And so do you

Don’t stay stationary

Keep moving and growing 

and learning to love

Because you are are a gift 

from high up above

And if your mate 

doesn’t put you first

Remember why it is 

That you came to this earth:

You are kind, you are loving, 

you’re beautiful and good

And no one, not no one, 

can tell you you should

Take a second seat 

to anything else

All that really matters–

be true to yourself!

Next week they are splicing from my most sacred of space, testing the cells there to see what took place. What’s been spoiled by not-enough-love from the one who had promised me, all others above. To have and to hold, to respect, and to care, but nearly, not ever, going in there. Which led to those Wednesdays (two dollars per hour) when I gave him permission to take from my flower, to feed me, and water where blossoms would grow, but hardly, not ever, my husband would go. And so I said yes, even though I knew better, to prodding and thrusting, (the table getting wetter) knowing that soon, someday, there’d be prices to pay, for my quarterly, sinister, romps in the hay. And now these years later, the scalpel I’ll face, as I calmly confront the consequence of my disgrace. Because every misdeed, every heeded intention led me right here, exactly, no need to mention. On Tuesday, I’ll learn just how dearly I’ve paid, for deathly, bad decisions, made in those desperate days.