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.)