It was never new
just new to me
like she was

She had it on
when I woke up
open, with the tie disappearing
between her naked legs

She’d made coffee
I felt uncomfortable with her sense of propriety.
the sun shone through a curtain-less window
dust danced in the rays
and cast diffused light on her face
a hard face, even in flattering light
a brow like a ledger sheet
agenda written all over it

She pressed that face into the pilled terry cloth
“Love that smell,” she said “your scent”
I noticed red stains on the worn sleeve
remnants of recent pizza
I felt uncomfortable with this intimacy

The windows have curtains now
coffee is on a timer
pizza, when eaten
is with a knife and fork.
I shower.

Every morning
she’s dressed, world ready
doesn’t wear my blue housecoat anymore
says it’s too embarrassing to donate
not even refugee-worthy

She knew
it was new only
to me

Like she is