opposite attracts, they said.

words preceded you. deeds judged you. traditions that pinned you. expectations that leashed you. your collarbones like wings spread from the base of your throat to the ends of your shoulders. a bird held down by skin. a collection of beautiful things.

he's a poet, metaphorically. hiding, dimming himself with liquor, writing about you, alternating in different colored inks because he can't paint. he can hardly even write, but he still tries. so he leaves you in lines. on pages. in books, in hopes that he can make you as permanent as the pieces displayed in the louvre museum.

he wanted you, the sheep amongst the wolves. but you wear black very well. and your arms did what his sleeping pills couldn't. your lips damage what bawds couldn't. your insides boils him that his wife couldn't.

it felt heavy. this loathing. this sickening, twisted, disgusting desire. all harbored for you — his in-law.