Still

She can still enjoy his work
His films
His words
His grooves etched in wax
The way he moved his hips
Like strings around the planet
Like rings in orbit
Were pulling him to dance

Hand held over the last cookie
Unapologetic

He’s still mine
I can still love him
She says
Despite sins and sins and sins that are etched in women’s bodies
Like we are wax

I can still see my him when I sleep
Which isn’t sleeping
It’s watching films on my eyelids
The full IMAX experience
With sight and scent and touch
And I wake up with teeth ground flat
With handprints I’ve left on my face

I wait for them to fade so I can go to work
So I can ride the bus
Without sad looks from motherly women
Wondering who hurts me
Still

by Heather Emme

To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

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