He got nothing from her

He got nothing from her.
She got nothing from him,
nothing but cold air from
either of them.

Theirs was not the best
start in the harsh
light of the morning.
As reality crept around
The cracks in her curtains,

strangers arising,
false memories
pre-dawning, quickly
vertical and yawning

He picked up his adultery
from her hard
bedroom floor
the morning after the
night before

while She
kicked into the corner
behind the door the
little respect she found
left with her drawers


her chin to her chest
exagerating his flaws
feel under her thighs
squeezing tight her
black eyes, while
he tried desperately to
find the right words
with his shirt


She sat rigid in their
dirt. They were both
late for work

On the wall, literary grafiti, unknown