Our love became a battle,
each of us presenting arguments
trying to persuade the other
(and the others)
Like lawyers in front of a jury
made up of our peers,
(in-laws, siblings, friends)
who would dissect the evidence
(however sketchy or biased)
we each presented:
the lies and betrayal
the neglect and disregard
the tacit cruelty.
The jury would side with her of course
(How could they not? She was fragile, broken)
And I was found guilty
(perhaps they were right)
But I wanted to appeal these rulings
these poisonous judgments
(What can a jury know of nuanced private chaos?)
I wanted to make amends,
pay a restitution
I’d agree to her terms
(more attention, more time, more love)
But she won her freedom
and she left;
my pleas fell on deaf ears,
and she never even returned my calls.
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