You do not want to know
the ways in which I am not
your Daisy Buchanan
You do not want to hear
how I permanent pressed
this emotional affair
instead of letting it drift
in swathes of technicolor
silk and cotton to the
hardwood of your floors
as I giggled to myself
You do not want to hear
how I wanted you to
wreck my marriage like
I wrecked your convertible
how my canary-colored vows
would have sounded
as they crumpled
beneath the weight of
your cool white hands
You do not want to hear
how I found you face down
floating in the pool and
put a knife to my throat
hoping to slit myself a set
of gills and let myself sink
beneath your unfeeling body
just to feel the weight
of you one final time
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