She was putting
on makeup in the mirror
while I lay on the bed.
It was late
and she was going out,
had on these heels
that made her
tall as me
when she stood.
--and so much
more dangerous--

She sat there
putting on makeup,
and every so often she'd
look through the mirror
in my direction and
shake her head;
a mix of disbelief
and resentment.

She sat there
putting on makeup
in silence for
eternities before she
suddenly stood up.
Told me she couldn't
take it anymore.
Told me she
had a friend
who'd let her sleep out
on her couch as long
as she needed.
Told me this friend said
she would have
left a long time ago,
if it had been her.

When I didn't respond
she called me a *******
*******,
called me all of these
terrible names.
She listed out all of my
terrible sins,
--with surprising
accuracy in detail--
and told me I was lucky to have
her as long as I did.
I told her I agreed and
she stormed
out the door,
leaving me in awe
there on the bed.

I haven't heard from her since,
but sometimes late
at night, when
it gets quiet and lonely,
I can hear
those ******* heels
click-clacking down
the stairs.

Piercing my heart with
each step out
towards the night.