Joshua Frank

House was straight lines when you came through the door,
Bleach and fresh linens to cover the deed,
Endeavors taken the evening before,
Making a bed meant for two fit for three.

Can’t you smell her perfume lingering?
The scent of creation on the mattress?
Discontent behind false eyes murmuring,
More eloquently stated in act than in breath.

And when you next reach for me in the night,
To paint the quiet with mutual cries,
Invariably another’s face will alight,
To bring me to pleasure through self-serving lies.

I behold my actions with shame where shame’s due,
Yet within lack of passion, found passion anew.

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