It made me happy: Sitting in a purple dress, watching the coffee cup’s white rim. Asteraceaes and their stems in glass. Smile across the table, staring back with love, in a grey suit. Diamond necklace. Black brogues.  Fur shawl draped over the chair. Foot tapping to the music.

Made me happy to see the couple painted with such detail. I was always scared of using oil paints. Her dress was the color of my broken nails. Her necklace around her neck while my plastic gem laid on the side table. I was scared of breaking it. You did not see me take off the gem before any other item because you were on the phone with your love. At around that time, that couple must have entered the restaurant. You entered me.

Her necklace complimented her eyes. My dark and torn stockings complimented mine.

Turning me over turned me away from the frame, making me face the pillow case I dreaded so much. Who knew you could be smothered even if the pillow is below. It is possible when his hand is on the back of your head. I wonder what it was like to put on a dress that stayed on for the night. I had to be undressed fifteen minutes after seeing you. I do not know what it feels like to hand someone’s hand reach your back to pull you closer as you dance. I can tell you how it feels to have a hand reach behind you to unhook your bra.

I want to wonder where we are headed, for once, while I hang my hair loose out of the passenger window. I want to smell the sea at a distance, not see familiar buildings pass us. I want you to hear my laughter and stories; you want to hear my moans to the hurtful thrusts of yours. Taking off my clothes for him is alright but tell me – tell me what it is like to take off your hands from your eyes and see white daisies with full stems in his fist?



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