Julie Hart

Different Thread Count

 

 

On Park Avenue

in Park Slope

on park benches

in parking lots

 

“I thought he loved me:

 

then why did he hide millions from me in the Cayman Islands?”

 

“I thought he loved me:

 

then why doesn’t he bring the stroller up the stairs

 

when he comes back from jogging with the baby?”

 

“I thought he loved me:

 

then why didn’t he give me half of his drugs?”

 

“I thought he loved me:

 

then why did he leave me here bleeding?”

 

And/Or--

 

“I thought she loved me:

 

she should know by now I have to hit my number.”

 

“I thought she loved me:

 

this stroller thing can not be why she’s mad at me!”

 

“I thought she loved me:

 

by body weight, I did give her half--a little more.”

 

“I thought she loved me:

 

only somebody who loved me would let me touch her at all.”

 

From three-hundred count crisp Egyptian cotton pima

to polyblend jersey sheets from Target

to a down jacket thrown on the ground.

Different thread count.  

Same old story.

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