She finds ways of being alone with him.
And when they're together, she finds ways of becoming me.
Her fingers slip into the ringlets on his head, a grotesque, disfigured god.
He takes her hands and puts them on the stubble on his chin, like he does mine.
She presses the nose of the iron under the stiff of his collar and serves food on my china.
In quiet corners, they talk, like we never did.
When her eyes are on us, he holds my ear to the sound of his heartbeat.
I don't know why that upsets me.
Under all the arrogance they deck him with, maybe Satan resented Adam because the immensity of his love for God was so great, he couldn't fathom how anything could transcend it. I cried for him last night, cried because how I realized that too much love was a sin.