It’s off to work for you my love

with a kiss good good-bye. I’ve packed you lunch.

Watch you drive down the street.

Making sure you really leave. 



Then I steal back to our bed

not to sleep but to wake instead.

I lift the mattress where I sleep

next to a women who bleeds and dreams all alone.



Italian leather cover’s soft

to my fingers careful touch.

I peel it back to peek inside.

Even in blue ink you are black and white.



Later that night after you get home,

after I’ve worn you thin we’ll lie together alone.

I will betray you, and you will know what I know

about how you betrayed me because you can’t stand to be known.



(You are needed though I know you want to go.)