20
the housekeeper finds me dumping dresses on the floor
i wasn’t careful, i want to say
but she already knows
she folds me into a hug —
there will be others, tate, she tells me
as i breathe in her familiar rose-petal perfume
she’s both right and wrong —
there will be others, sure
but none of them will have those portuguese-tile eyes
or dig their lacquered nails into my wrist
as i turn up the speaker to drown out their screams,
up to no good
none of them will give me an extra scoop of french vanilla
none of them will have that shit-eating grin