The closest we ever came to love was a two minute mistake and your embarrassment.
How much you'd missed our couch you'd said lying through salty stares
6 a.m. and I watched you saunter down the stairs to your big white Buick,
holding myself tight,
tearing through my belly,
trying to save myself for the protection I didn't have when I allowed you inside.
I watched you with imperfect, glassless vision, clouded by sleepless nights and
Mr. Bubble's pink powdered residue.
I watched you forget to look back,
and all you ever called for was your
damn blue hat.
"Every man's life is a fairytale written by God's finger."
-Hans Christian Anderson