how to know when it's overMature

your mouth used to claim mine; your teeth as hungry for my lips
as your fingers were for the hem of my blouse.  i still have burns
where you touched me too hard.
sometimes if the sunshine was bright and the day had started
slow and gentle, i’d come home to find fresh flowers in a vase or
my favorite chocolates on the coffee table.  
it was not the absence of these things that told more truth 
than you could, but the sudden appearance of other things.  
i would wake up in the middle of the night to find you had wedged pillows
between us. soon, the lines became obvious, even though 
i had no desire to see them.
our laundry began to separate.  somehow, the bills on the counter
would form factions under your name or mine.  
you changed the passcode on your phone.  
you stopped bringing me a cup of coffee whenever you got up
to freshen yours.  you stopped using ”we” when talking to our friends.

The End

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