I wait upstairs in the hotel room
knowing he won't come~
to follow me would show a
sign of exasperated weakness~
emasculate the badge of pride
worn like epaulets upon
his war torn shoulders

I romance myself with Corona
on the king size bed and rehearse
to the surf how I might ever
get him to really like me,
knowing when he finally enters
I'll just sit with my face
turned in silent self depreciation,
so that this common division
can continue indefinitely

Written by Sara Fielder © Dec 2016