We lost the meaning of "protest" the first time we fucked.
got tangled in the etymology of our moans;
while afterward you exhaled puffs of smoke
that curled around your nostrils
like catharsis
but that will not emancipate you
from moments when your splayed fingers across my face
and tried to push me towards amelioration of past ills
because you tried to absolve your present;
gifts like redemption and starry eyed gazes
that shine in your pupils like hope
but you have forgotten that you emanate Queen Gertrude
and I will not exonerate you
because I am just a pearl surreptitiously dissolving
at the bottom of goblets meant for sons, not lovers
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