She slams hard those doors
Every time she leaves,
Imprisoning me in the incomplete
Conservation we previously had.
I sit measuring the degrees of
The crime I might have committed
Against the punishment she
Has me sentenced.
She comes back guilt-ridden
Sometimes to console me but
Leaves the same way she came,
Making me feel more apologetic.
After seeking pardon and writing
Pleas to please her, I've lost hopes
Of my redemption and wait for
My fateful days at the gallows.
But it seems my condemnation was
Never to the crushing discretion
Of a noose. Her intention was to
Romance the hangman in my presence.
And after each of such un-dead
Fateful nights, 'Cuck' written
On my forehead, I wake up to the
Torment of another dawn.