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The Waiting Game

An intricate weave.
My stepmother's quilt. I despised it.
So I took my teeth to it,
Tore out all of the stitches,
Ripped up all of the cloth squares. Stuffing everywhere.
Like an Autumn dinner gone wrong.
My wife is coming,
She will not be happy with this;
Like the rancid red wine stain on the carpet--
We covered it with a piece of furniture, god forbid,
I twitch a little too hard and suddenly,
It's my fault everything is wrong.
Next time,
We will bleed, and it will be all her fault,
Everything will be right, though.
The kitchen knife will get its fill
After going unused for many years--
A wedding gift for innocent lovers
Off to their honeymoon a day later.
Venice. Oh, how I loved it,
You took everything from me there
So I will take everything from you here.
My wife hates me.
But I love myself too much to let her consume me.
Are you ready? This will be fun.
There's blood under my nails already.