Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.

A kid under a tablecloth insists he’s a ghost. A table underneath a tablecloth is, I guess, like the rest of us, only pretending to be invisible.

The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling.

Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?

Tell me we're dead and I'll love you even more.

You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room.

You play along, because you want to die for love, you always have.