All The Things She Has
[and yet...]



She has blood red lips and black knee high stockings. Her hair is brown and curled, just like yours. Her eyes though, they give her away; they’re grey, a dull grey. Not like the blue-grey with the sparks of yellow in yours.

She’s a poor substitute for you, with her too-skinny waist and her too wide hips.

She doesn’t sound like you, has none of your class, and gives out her name (Lauren, a dirt common name), to any fool with $50.

When she comes, (with unbecoming groans) I wonder how I ever found the strength to let you go.

Thomas is a good man, that was my first thought of him. I didn’t know him, as they say, from Adam, but I knew he was a good man.

Maybe a better man than me.

I set you up. “I’ve got a friend,” I said, “she’s a little high maintenance, she’s been hurt so often, and will kill me if she finds out I’m doing this, but I think you’d be good for her.”

He was – is.

He makes you smile in ways that I never could.

So, I kiss these blood red lips (never as soft as yours were) and rip away black knee-high stockings (you’d say they’re worth more than I am if I tried it on you), and pretend…