She was a motley of mint and cucumber
and all things green
when she whispered in my ears
she was all persuasion and mesmeric
her photographs had supplanted
Polaroids of women in lacy underwear
posing on my desk, a camouflage,
my drawer was a garden
of her accessories.
One day she broke-up
accusing me of treachery,
she left with all her toxic green
she was unable to decode my interests and whims
with clarity.
I could smell lavender again
as I ran my fingers across
the aborted love letters to my male bestfriend
hidden in a cookie tin.

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