10/4/2014

noting that nothing
much compares,
i get up in my bra

while an inamorata
lies behind me on the dormroom bed
their dormroom bed

and i look in the mirror
but i do not even think
to look at my face

like they are doing.
they are studying the curve
of my ears

and the way the shoddy
window lights
my browbone.

but they cannot see my tailbone,
because i must always
keep my skirt on.

they ask me to come to bed
i think about it and checked my
missed calls.

i tell them we are cinematic
and they say well I love you
patting the bed.

i shake my head again
cold as i was when we first met
grown cynical.

i do not look at my face in the
five times i get up to observe
the shape of my chest

while they lie behind me waiting
for what?
i only make eye contact

with myself when i am fixing their shirt
in the bathroom mirror
and we look at each other

through it. A hand on my head.
I cast my eyes down to their
shirt collar that needs fixing.


How handsome are you now?