on that day

you married him and the light struck you in only one direction, he had his hand on one knee and you had your hand on your open mouth

on that day your hair had curls and wings and your skin was extra dewy. rain could fall from your face and it did, it trickled down the veil of your face to the veil over your feet, and the veil behind your feet, behind your footsteps and his footsteps, the only two you'd ever take

you'd only take him, you decided. you, smooth as butter on his white bread toast. how after he consumes you, you remind me that you had a good time overall all that matters is how you taste he tells you. how he eats you like your daddy did, he reminds you how you like it when he puts his hand over your mouth, he holds you in, he likes how you taste and will eat you again and again and each day, there are more mouths and not enough of you to hold

you wonder why your skin holds you back from yourself when you look at it and you think you can see through. you spend so much time on the floor. he likes it with you on all fours. he tells you he's used to how you like it when he pulls your hair back out of your head and spills all over you after the bottle is gone because you'd rather not be alone, and the children, you tell me you like the forces of habit, there is a comfort in the certainty of his bite

i tell you, do you remember us, and you'd rather not, or you would but we aren't talking or we haven't for years. there are more important things to think about, like the present moment even if the ground is falling like rain, each day, a little more dew. remember how i said you were like water, that you could not be contained? how you left me a tsunami, the environment will repair itself, nature has no responsibility for its surround