I have stolen your hair: its color, its shape.
The way you shake it loose each night before you fall asleep and dream of lumber.
It cascades on my pillow like the water of heaven.
I have stolen the way you hold your cigarette between your ring finger and pinky,
Leaving the rest of your hand free to pinch the flesh of darling boys with their backs to you,
Or to handle money, or to wave at me in desperation, to try to get yourself back.
Point at me and say, there is someone who has stolen my walk,
And she's stolen my scent and now dogs follow her home, wanting something.
She has stolen my jokes, my tattoos. She's stolen the pants I charmed off of everyone I knew.
She's stolen my pout, the way I kiss. She reads my horoscope every day.
She's stolen my voice, my words, the way I dance, and my favorite colors.
Had I a husband, she'd steal him too. Had I any secrets, they would be hers.
Yes, I've taken it away because you were foolish enough to let me.
Thank me. I'm doing it justice.
Thief....
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