she's breathing heavily against
a pillow with a cotton blue slip;
her breathing's raspy and uneven
and it takes a while for you to realize
that she's hyperventilating

"baby, what's wrong" you ask her,
half nervous and three-fifths scared
(you were never that good at math)

she shakes her head nonono
you just think she's tired and overwhelmed
and you leave her alone while
she cries her little heart out

you treat her like she's the last diamond
(unbreakable and scratch proof)
in the entire world
and she's yours, and yours only

but if only you knew the truth,
you poor, naive boy
because you don't even know the half of it

if only you saw the list
of missed calls on her cellphone
from another man-boy named jimmy

if only you saw her lipstick,
smeared across her face like blood
(she was just acting as
somebody else's whore)

if only you saw the used condom
(that doesn't belong to you)
in the trashcan
because you would have realized that it was b r o k e n

if only you saw the pregnancy test,
in her hands, shielded from you
(it's screaming positive, positive,
but you can't hear)

she's not your diamond
(pssstt she's going to have his baby)
because she's his pyrite