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Today marks the day.

I look down at my white gown.

I take one last bite of the sweet milk chocolate.

I get up from the table, throw away the playbill,

And picture him sitting there on a warm summer’s eve.

He didn’t perceive that I couldn’t conceive,

It was like we spoke a different language.

I cannot carry the guilt, knowing his hunger.

I’m a mess, and I’ve stained my dress.

As I dug deep into my arteries.

I let go, and let the red blood flow.

I’m open, and now I am ended.