The Day Ends

my naked body spills upon the couch

eyes losing the strength to open

so I lie here.

still as a painting

life’s pang lingering between breasts–

this the pause I take after the day packs up its shit 

somehow I’m still tense,

doubting if the day’s work was enough (If I am enough).

being a brown figure, with red and black contours

too tired to put titties on a pretty–lace platter

too tired to be clothed

too tired to find a distraction to take me away

so I sit in it.

Let the cigarette balance on an ashtray,

Let the exhaustion

rupture every fabric off my body.

my limbs sink between blue-colored cushion

as still as a painting

I, a frozen image.

proof of a tired woman