Hate Crime

“I’m painting the town,”
Read your message on the table.
So with faith I lay awake and wait.

Past midnight brings your
Muddled Muse who
Fakes a sober breath for you,
And shields your shameful strut.

Atop the crawling staircase
A one-armed salute to
Dignity you toast cheap and bitter shots.

In the dark I hear your
Fingers fumble noisy
Battles with brass hardware.

Chains bind my spine when
You reach for the cord and lamplight
Spills guilt across the bedroom floor.

Your disemboweled mouth
Leaks jumbled words
As WIFE and PAIN
Turn WHITE and PALE.

Face me so your
Confused hands can try 
To justify my cold feet.

But the message on my
Broken lips reads
“This is how corpses sleep.”