The Divorcee

Lonely nights, I embrace you.

Those ripples on my bed
were caused by my body,
aged somewhere in the mid-thirties;
These ashes scarring my carpet floor
were born from my Marlboro Lights,
aged nine minutes.

The bathroom doesn't smell of aftershave,
or masculine shower gel
And the toilet seat is always down.

Men, I do not trust you like before.
Love, I seek you. Only more.