It’s morning
she’s filling her cup
at the water cooler
thinking back
to a time
when things weren’t
so good
that morning
stumbling out
of the hotel
embarrassed in high heels
at the break of dawn
riding in the cab
seeing all the good
people go to work
how she had wished
she had a job
she fantasized on the way home
about getting up
at the same time each day
making a cup of coffee
doing menial
but safe routines
and tasks
he had left her that night
after she paid for the hotel room
it was his idea
she thought he would stay
so she gave herself to him
she thought he would stay
because he still loved her
somewhere, somehow
beneath his drugs
and her alcohol
that he still loved her
she told him a story
about a myth
involving women
she was trying
to explain her heart
in a parable
but fell
all
over
herself
he smiled
she thought it was
alright
then he took a phone call
and said
he would be back later
he never came back
and she slept
on white sheets
and puffy pillows
in a fancy room
she had paid for
all alone
it was dark
now it doesn’t
seem to all matter
it was so long ago
or was it?
These things
should be forgiven
and forgotten
right away
in a perfect world.
But now she is cleansing
herself
does not rent hotel rooms
anymore unless it is
for a vacation
and she knows that
her companion will not leave her
now, she is here
and he....
Is dead
why does it still matter?
~Jenny