Undressing

I leave the trousers and the underwear in their tangle
nuzzling one another in the embrace of my heat
step before the mirror and watch the little bruises on my skin
Blossoming, red, purple and green
I wrote you a text last night and didn’t send it
went to bed feeling kind of good about myself
like that kid from the reel who was given candy
told not to eat it till mummy got back
god how she waited
the heater in the corner knows this room better than I do
It ate dust in the summer and survived without its little cardboard home
but being tough isn’t everything they make it to be
the machine can only cough up a burning scent that loves no one
I swirl before the mirror, wish for more here and less there
lower all I have, flat against the marble floor
remind myself that the cold is a kindness
think of the last time we were in this room
picking books you wanted our children to read
now those spaces in the bookshelf are gaping,
and the night is stunned by the magic of me