Prude

I wasn't okay when you tangoed
in the horizontal direction
with a powderless
moth

So I told you
poured my heart out in a
glass Smuckers jar

let you take a sip to linger
with cold Chinese and
alcoholed decisions

but she told me that two
was not a lucky number

and I wrapped myself in closer

hid the piece I gave you
that I thought you kept

dropped on the floor
of youthful indulgence and
reputation

gathered in hands still shaking
with weathered
disappointment.