consonance my assonance.

[Hint: you should always read poetry out loud.]

she layers prayers into her morning plait

and plates her doubts for breakfast,
every morning waking sore when
he keeps whores like secrets.

she throws cravings into craters 

forged by kites diving for 

prey.
while he dare upbraid her, fair maiden -
paying favors, steer the stray.
breathes as if her blood weren't seizing
vehement breeze inside her veins.
scold her searing skin with tears
so vile even roaches complain.

under unborn creases in her face
she sheaths her teeth and swears to stay.
endanger her, label her crazy
muttering maybes in the shade.