*Written June 18, 2008*

he was a poet and i didn’t even know it
would end up this way
i thought a man so careful with words,
so meticulous with phrases
so introspective with thoughts
so…deep
would have at least valued
me.
he called me his queen
loved the fact that i was chocolate
even made me walk farthest away from the street
but he couldn’t keep his
promises.
i was a queen
i was
i was a queen of sorrow
queen of suffering
queen of sacrifice
and the last royalty i knew
to go down like that
was Jesus.

my garden of Gethsemane
happened to be the driver’s seat
and i pleaded
as tears of blood rolled down my forehead
and stung my eyes
take this cup from me
take this violation from me
take this night from me
take this life from me
but not like this.
those assigned to watch over me
were sleeping
eyes closed, minds closed
as i was forced
open
as my life and privacy
was widened
as my body
was no longer mine to keep.