I watch a cockroach crawl across the lace scallops on the bottom of my bra
the part where your fingers used to trail softly, I try to hold back tears
if I am crying because of you
or the roaches
maybe it is only that I can write comparisons
how you both touch my intimate things/thoughts
touch me while I sleep
that bring tears.
You are gone † † † †
the cockroach remains
Your touch no longer covering his
my relationship with the roach
now more intimate
than the one I shared with you.