Ficly

A Gentleman, Even In The End

I noticed a purple bruise on your neck,
no doubt a perfect imprint
from some woman quite
unknown to me.
I kept my mouth shut
as you trailed your fingers lightly over
the soft skin between my ear and the base
of my neck.
How could I be disappointed?

Realizing I am just a name
on a long list
leaves a bland taste in my mouth
and a heaviness in my boots.
How will I be remembered?
A quick glance with a touch
of red lipstick smeared
on your bedsheets.
Numbered days within seconds of meeting.
A flame igniting sweet tobacco in
the night.
A blur, in the grand scheme of things.

I will never be anything more
than a name on a list
of past, present, and future lovers.

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