Disguised as an Old Hag

I threw us away in haste

In a stinking garbage at the corner of the street

On the way

To your home.


It was a dark and rotting matter,

Of confused words and unsteady hands.

Of yesterday breath in the cold wires of

The morning,

Of loud noises

Called laughter.


I wanted to break the China,

And leave no trace of my cowardice.

I wanted to show you a dirty world,

On the clean walls

Like images between splits of seconds

Those are between kisses and orgasms.

Happiness is a sad demise of destruction,

And a child of fortune and disillusionment…

Which you have not earned.


It would’ve been unsettling

As the biting of a lip under the glare of old letters.

If you hadn’t been a photograph in my wallet.

An idea that had grown steady and sure,

On its own.

If you only had been real,

I would have spilled wine on your living room rug.


So when I saw the apron and wooden spoon,

Glimpsing an arm and a touch,

A stifle of laughter in the kitchen as I sipped your French wines,

Knowing that love follows wherever you go,

I sat down.

To eat.


I smiled at your jokes

And told her how beautiful her wedding China was.

And agreed when you said,

Winter was late this year.




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