Approach

It was he,

Who sat on ‘our’ couch,

With her

Around his neck;

 

It was me,

Who felt disdain

Run through my veins,

Infecting my heart, crippling my motion;

 

It was he,

Who stared down at me,

Like I was a harlot,

Claiming to have been raped;

 

Yet why is it me,

Who is stooping my head,

Tears in my eyes,

And begging for his forgiveness?

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