Fault

by Abigale Louise LeCavalier

“It was not your fault but mine.”

A line from a song
that brings it all home.

The days passed in pants
and thin man suits,
the evenings reserved
for too tight stilettos
and cocktail dresses.

Creeping around secretly
with the sneakiest of sneakers on,
hiding what could not be hidden.

Though nothing lasts forever.

Like the death of a sunflower
the falsity of it all
came raining down,
in browns, yellows, and grays.

And being seen for the first time
meant loosing everything.

Work.
Family.
Friends.
Lovers.
And children.

Children.

But the creeping around
has stopped at least,
and I finally found the right heels
to go with that cocktail dress.