Joyce #2 Poem by Aileen Figueroa

Joyce,

There's a stranger
sleeping on my bed.
He looks and smells
like someone…
I used to adore.

When
he opens his eyes
in the mornings,
he cannot see me.
He gets up,
gets dressed and
leaves for the day.

At night.
I could feel him
crawling back into
my bed, as if,
I'm no longer there.
I pretend to be a sleep.

I could feel
the warmth of his body,
but I don't understand
what's happening
any longer.

There's a stranger sleeping
in my bed..


©️ af-singlestar
9/23/18