(Published at The Writers Club)

I can’t pick up the clothes
that Hannah left on the floor;
it’s a clutter of keepsakes
smeared with her lipstick
and stains from sweaty sex.
Hannah was translucent,
painting pictures to articulate
the breath she left behind as a kiss
keeps her tongue on my mind, the words
Hannah pushed through her lips
as I touched her hips;
the scent of summer anxiety covered this dress.
Either she comes home or, by God,
I’ll burn everything she owns
to the ground, take the insurance
money and skip town to hunt her down
and do it all again.
In a huff, Hannah penned a laundry list of demands.
“You’ve got a mess of your own to fix.”
“I guess I’ll do the laundry,” I said in a low tone.
“Wait,” Hannah said, grabbing my wrist. “Let’s go make some more dirty bedsheets.”
I cracked a grin.
Hannah bit her lower lip and gave me a sultry wink.

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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