penthouse reflections e.d.

I realize now that he was lying to me even further back

it is later and I am back at the penthouse.I pace the bedroom  like a mad woman ….like a mad woman ….disappearing photos…. yes, mad woman, indeed—who used to say that—those old Greek choruses never shut up….Paris was a lie too I guess, and this new shock —I feel so sick ….I go to the window and —think ….

then realize the view from his kitchen is right where I’m standing ….

    and he is watching me….what is it then?— either let me go or come clean ….I want to tear through all the false promises with just one scrap of proof that ….

any of it was real ….to think he just wanted to play me for a fool makes me 

I draw the drape in one raging move and turn my back to it

how can I ever think I actually meant anything to him if he could be so duplicitous with zero qualms for all his disregard toward me —so I rage at the walls for awhile ….and stomp across the bedroom looking up at the walls feeling as if I am thoroughly trapped by them

and want to run.but where. and so tired of running.