Lipstick Pollution

Your voice still echoes
eating at my cerebral
lobe, staining thoughts.

I sleep in your red
boxers. At night, the sheets
rub against my legs.

Light and voices
radiating from the TV
keep me company,

while I wait for you
to crawl into bed, smelling
of Kamikazes and smoke,

whispering goodnight
from a mouth polluted
with her lipstick and sex.



So, Lipstick Pollution is from over three years ago, and it doesn't describe anything in my life, but instead a movie that I can't remember the name of now.