Fault

Fault

“It was not your fault but mine.”

A line from a song

that brings it all home.

The days passed in pants

and thin man suits,

the evenings reserved

for too tight stilettos 

and cocktail dresses.

Creeping around secretly

with the sneakiest of sneakers on,

hiding what could not be hidden.

Though nothing lasts forever.

Like the death of a sunflower

the falsity of it all

came raining down,

in browns, yellows, and grays.

And being seen for the first time

meant loosing everything.

Work.

Family.

Friends.

Lovers.

And children.

Children.

But the creeping around

has stopped at least,

and I finally found the right heels

to go with that cocktail dress.