allowance

Let me be as raw and bloody and dripping as I am
Let the books on marriage and husbands confront my vision,
Papercut me to darkest sorrow.

Let the song she played for him on our wedding day
play while I sink into the helpless reality.


Of life.

Of love.

Of not good enough and good intentions and wounded reaction.

Let me wallow in the mud and let it rain more and let us drown.

I don't want to be clean.
Anyway it would be dishonest. I am filthy.
Mess of childhood and confusion and repression.

Let the Beatles play on.
Let the earth turn and spin all of our pain into something edible, something beautiful.

Or else let us pretend that is what it will do.