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I bet
he hums a cheerful tune
with a prideful grin on his face
after one leaves and
to himself
he thinks
"she thought
I loved her,
how pathetic"
I bet
when he kisses another
with his busted up
treacherous lips
to himself
he thinks
"she thinks
I'll never leave her,
how ignorant"
I bet
when he touches the soft skin
of another pretty face
with his bloody, bruised knuckles
he thinks
"I've caught another,
how easy"
I bet
when he lies down
next to another
warm,
beautifully naive body
to himself
he thinks
"she thinks
I'll still be here
in the morning,
how naive"
I know
after he's finished
with me
with her
with everyone
to himself
he thinks
"you thought I cared,
oh but darling,
you were just
another poem to write,
a new song to sing,
another story to tell
another notch on my belt"
