I look like an unloved wife – brilliant
diamonds circle my finger promise
vows my heart is still trying to keep.
In hotel bars men buy me drinks and hope
for a night between my thighs.
Sometimes I let them
lean close, fingers grazing
my warm skin. My lips brush
their cheek before telling them
no. I leave with only their names
clutched between my teeth,
go to bed naked
but alone, feel guilty
for crimes I’ve not yet
*this poem borrows lines from thousands by
Courtney LeBlanc is the author of the chapbooks All in the Family (Bottlecap Press) and The Violence Within (Flutter Press) and is an MFA candidate at Queens University of Charlotte. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in Public Pool, Rising Phoenix Review, The Legendary, Germ Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Brain Mill Press, Haunted Waters Press, and others. She loves nail polish, wine, and tattoos. Read her blog at www.wordperv.com, follow her on twitter: @wordperv, or find her on facebook: www.facebook.com/poetry.CourtneyLeBlanc.