I hate that sometimes my eyes sting with fresh tears over you.
You don’t deserve them; you never did. You deserve nothing
that comes out of this body. Not saltwater, not blood, not a kidney
or a lung or a single ounce of give-a-shit - because, really,
what did you ever sacrifice to me? Where are the offerings
in place of all this silence and all these years?
I think you should know that in a hundred years, you will be dust
just like everything else and no one will know your name
and no one will be left to remind them. All those nights you
held down a woman who was too good for you so you could
leave your legacy on this earth and all you have to show for it
are three xx chromosomes (and I hope it keeps you up at night,
knowing that your body was the tool that failed you).