by Shaunna Harper
Your lips are still on my lipstick.
Your eyes are still on my eyeshadow brush.
You're still wearing my favourite shirt;
go on, keep it, if you must.
The bags you unpacked are under your eyes;
see that drawing? It's tattooed on your skin.
All those lies I heard you telling?
Here's your concealer - quick, rub it in.
Your jeans are still dirty, you know,
they smell of someone else's bed.
I can see a stranger's hair sprouting
like blades of grass from your head.
Your feet are sweating in my scarlet heels,
your fingers still wear my rings.
When you went out, you used my mouth
to whisper vulgar things.
That's my age in the lines by your eyes,
my silver ring in your nose.
You use my legs, my hips, my ruby lips
and strike a pretended pose.
But I watched you while you slept, you know,
tucked inside a lie on the bed,
and all my thoughts and all my pain
came floating right out of your head.
Last updated December 16, 2014