Anathema

I knew it- somehow.

I already knew before

he could say her name.

I knew it from the way we slept

with our backs turned.

From the way we seldom

held each other.

I knew what he would say

long before he said it.

I had felt her name being

scalded into my very own heart,

each syllable on his tongue making me

more bereft.

I knew it before he said

that he had to go and

Another time, another time-

I lay in bed, burdened and heavy

and hating a woman

that I did not know.

I turned to anonymous faces for advice

and stared deep into the crevices of the floor

until I could no longer feel

the fire, the fury, the defeat

that grew and grew

and lingered in my stone soul.

Whore! Whore!

I could not believe what my lover had done

and still, I did not cry or curse

but rather locked myself away

until I could feel the fire extinguish

and even the contempt

dismiss.