The other woman doesn’t keep laundry piled on the floor.
She keeps fresh flowers in each room; an aroma when he comes in the door.

The other woman is always on time and one phone call away.

Any request from him and she’ll manage to rearrange her day.

She takes a pill, she takes a shot, she needs a nap, but takes a breath.

She knows what she’s wrecking, but he’ll be here soon, so she showers instead.

She’ll put on a smile, open the door and then open her legs.

She’ll say “never again” over and over, but always gives in to his begs.

He says he’ll leave her soon, “Be patient.” Be cool.

She’ll nod and blow a kiss, knowing she’s a fucking fool.

She cries herself to sleep, wakes up covered in dried tears.

She’s often alone, even when she’s not, the other woman is….here.

June 2012

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