The Queen

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The ruins of Algiers
And the salty air of the coast
Were more seductive
Than this brunette

The idea of her
Was a novelty
After our vows
Had been laid down upon the bed and comforter.

The idea of her
Became your mistress
The idea of her
Became your escape 

And I remember
I played house
For a while
With an unwilling suitor

My youth and innocence
Covered me with marriage’s warm blanket
Which slowly slipped off in the middle of the night
To reveal the sheets of denial.

I tugged at the corners
To return to the comforter
Before morning
To cover what I chose not to see

The contagious air
Of newlyweds
Never infected your heart,
I never infected your heart

As each morning passed
Just after fajr and subh
Was coming in
I looked into the mirror.

I looked in the mirror
To find the blushing bride
But my eyes, still hazel
And my hair, still dark.

My skin still pale
And freckled 
I began to no longer
See me as your wife.

I looked in the mirror
For the first in a long time
I looked in the mirror
For a while.

I caught myself
Occasionally recognizing
The beauty you may
Have fallen for. 

But the ruins of Algiers
And the sweet, salty air
Became more seductive
Than I could ever be.

And she lied in that bed
Swaddled in sheets
I left her for as long as I could
So she would be neglected, stifled and belligerent.

I waited for you to
Come through the door
To see what I had done
To see that I had attempted to kill her. 

But slowly the anticipation
Drew the pink from my cheeks
And out…
Threw my toes. 

Those same toes
Curled while supplicating
Asking Him to relieve me
Of this position, to fix me.

My lips moved whispering
The prayers the Prophet said worked
My lips moved
Wishing yours could find them selves near to mine. 

I continued my supplication:

I promise I was simple to love,
I promise I did what I could,
I promise I tried to be her.

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