step down please

you like him.
wake up in the bed beside him

a dark room, shutters clicked closed
your dark haired man three hands away
a faded pool of blood at your hip.

you say goodbye
swimming face down in his brown chest
fully clothed

climb down from him
onto your bike.
pedal, stop, step, pedal, sweat, step

home
put a day of work together
sipping noodles from cardboard cups and coffee water through a straw.

you do it to yourself you know.
but oh how
you love it so.

doubt

morning

you can't imagine loving someone again, although it's clear you want to.

it slips out
when you've had too much to drink
you apologize in the morning
the way a man would say nothing.


after

the gallery is closed
walk to the cafe.
catch glimpses of yourself in glass doors
in stares from couples in matching t shirts or hair color.

put your head down over a notebook to make something you'd like.
something from your hands that could be good.
connect with a woman over language, or stories about selves

honest
your history in cartoon outlines
hanging on a wall nearby.

different

you know
i'm not that girl
i say.
but

i look in the mirror and i see her
the same one
same color, and size and thickness.

i trace myself with a black marker
adding lines
sags around the belly and the breasts.

twenty nine, i mouth
twenty nine,

i ask him, if he likes me, using words
that wiggle less
but fall just as thin and storebought onto his friday night
beers from the refrigerator lined wall
flip flops and checkered shorts.

i wouldn't be here he says
im looking at the mint green chipping away on my left hand
the right fingernails, a pale beige
holding fast.