My dear, I have lived my whole life
In a shell incongruous with my soul.
My shell, though speckled with normality
Conforming to Fibonacci’s perfection
Squeezed my fragile soul to deformity.
My dear, when you walked down the aisle
You married a woman in a man’s shell.
I lived in the constant betrayal of my body
Speaking truths to me, but they are not
The truths of my soul.
My dear, have you known all along?
The hormones in my shell whisper to my
Parasympathetic nerves, holding me prisoner
To the rabid expansion of my shell’s lusts
Ignoring my cloistered screams of agony.
My dear, though I have discarded this shell
For another that curves to my curves and
Dances to the rhythms of my quintessence
I still love you for your soul.
Do you love my soul? Will you love my body still?
Am I your wife? Are you still my wife?