in your 30-year conspiracy of manners
he kissed your cheek in the mornings
and ignored your tears at dinner,
your life neatly arranged in boxes.
you should have been catalyst enough
to meet outside the script you both crafted
where everything became predictable
and those feelings in your heart,
thoughts in your head, your words
all belong to someone else;
the lines you wrote now so thick
you choke on them.