Therapy sonnet

“You really should stop falling for girls who
  go home to other men,” my married lover 
said at the door last night.  I said: “Like you?”
  and for an instant, I saw something hover
in her gray eyes, something with bloody claws,
  before it flew away, and she said: “Oh,
I have no home,” adding, after a pause:
  “I’m just a girl who never could say no
except to a commitment.  Such a pair.”
  She scrunched her nose up, said: “Thanks for the ride,”
and walked out with a wave, leaving me there
  with her smell on the blue sheets by my side
      and stomach sick, as if I had just lied,
      and nothing but my body satisfied.

Copyright 2012 Matthew J Wells