Queserasara
He misled my heart,
Tore it apart.
Manipulation, his art.
I, his muse.
I stood at the edge of the rooftop, looking down, hearing my heart drum in my ears. I glistened from sweat, or maybe it’s my pregnancy glow. I can’t do it. I can’t be a wife, let alone a mother. I need an out from it all.
I dangled one foot off the rooftop.