• luispabon 5w

    Her Hurt Body

    I am not him
    And yet your vision is clouded by mounds of memories
    Dedicated to his presence unseen
    My curl brush reminds you of his hair
    My sheen: morning's with him
    He is both here and not here
    As you punish me
    With the ways you wished to punish him
    My need for you is seen as an after thought
    A clever anecdote told to fill the space at parties
    My love becomes a ghost
    That gets no invitation to haunt you
    As you are already a house at full capacity
    Standing room only
    Where every man who loves you
    Must be willing to leave.