1.a.m. &still lounging in the lobby of your old apartment building
right outside your wooden door with the peeling green paint
room #66 on the 22nd floor & I
always joked that the 3rd 6 fell off your golden number plate
leaving you to be my devil with a broken leg
should have known that devils don’t keep promises
the lipstick message still scribbled on your door
Red Lacquer you bought me from Estée Lauder
&you never wiped off my final thoughts
on your wooden door with the peeling green paint and you still--
(god please, no)
paint me pretty with magenta lies & leave me broken at your feet
it’s been a year, love
and all you did was walk out that door.

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