in the morning I wake with his face next to mine, 

white fingers lunge toward me

grasp my neck, pull me close—

he whispers and tells me that

I am all but someone to love 

I am only his lover in the sheets

I am only who he wants me to be. 

in the afternoon I rise when he’s done with me, 

gone with the morning 

my fingers graze my cheeks, my neck once held hostage

in the mirror I see nothing. 

just me and my face, 

just me and my hair that I will soon comb, 

just me and my tired skin that will be woken by 

splashes of water and coffee that 

I will make myself

without anyone else. 

he is gone, gone, gone 

I remind myself. 

tomorrow morning I hope that I will wake only with scars, ones that will 

fade

                         and                   lighten 

as each day passes 

About the Author

Catherine Lieu is a bookseller and writer living in Canada. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English and Creative Writing. While her main focus has been Creative Non-Fiction, she has recently ventured into the world of short fiction and poetry. She currently writes a sporadic newsletter of book-related discourse. This is her first piece to be submitted to a publication.