she learned the words
anarchy
and
freedom.

And somehow it wasn't me anymore --
Wreckage in white shorts.
He pulled them off so quickly,
I must have helped him.

I heard him take her
against a wall.

I was lying
on a mattress
on a floor.

I was sure it was fine.
And I was tired.
Drunk.
Embarrassed
to be in the same room.

I don't remember her calling
out my name.
Her muffled mouth
smothered neath his sweaty hands.
I didn't hear anything.

At least I don't remember...
hearing much.
I didn't think...
My head in the pillows.
Face down.
Dead to the world.

The frame is too big
for your painting.
It has fallen through.
It is deep,
and dusty.
The canvas
naked,
the colors faded
to ash.

It bothers me,
but I have nothing more to say.

People give me things
and I let them!