Uncovering your breasts
and waist,
you become half-eaten.

Disaffection
fathere a child.

The intimacy was
false. There were anger and theatrics.

The paternity suit falls
flat. The boundaries between
underthings are torn.

Painting the self-portrait
I had made a cut on my face
for you to bleed.

With a flick of hand
you wipe out the whole future.

Satish Verma

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/curved-in/