Monday, 25 July 2016

poem 2016 / 070

Night Cream

Bathroom ablutions,
my face pink from hot water
as I dab the heat from my eyes.
The mirror has steamed up
despite the heat of the night;
his late arrival from band practice
timed for me to be long abed
but I waited up.
Hot tea and digestive biscuits,
late night American sit-coms.
He slips off his clothes,
drops them in the laundry
“Hurry up with the sink.”
I see the lipstick stain,
Ruby Red, smeared across
one collarbone
as she slid to one side.
I don't look down.
I don't want to see his flaccid cock
that hasn't touched me in more months
than I can count Sundays.
“All yours.”
I slip into bed, trying not to imagine
what she looks like.
A younger me?
I reach for a book
and hear the shower start up.

Image: Grinding the Rails 2016 by Rachel Green. oil on canvas board 89mm x 63mm  £35 free postage


aims said...

AS always - dear friend - so perfect! So right on the nail! So - you!!

Rachel Green said...

Thanks Aims :)

Lu LeatherEagle said...

Wow...really powerful. Xxx