I always wanted to be the kind of woman who wears scarves

I am dressed for the funeral of my self-respect

black from head to toe except

the scarf to hide the bruises of your love

on my neck.

I go to the supermarket I hate, never looking around

so seeing no-one look at me; eyes down

where they were before I met you and should

have stayed.

Concealer is not enough when you need an invisibility cloak

but I paint it on anyway and dream and hope

one day I can hide my whole self from myself

as well as everyone.

If you liked this poem you might like: At night when you were not there