Like any garment, men have their seasons.
I wear them to pay the rent. I don’t ask
to be loved, just seen: a gentle thumb
wiping lipstick from my teeth.

Admit it. Anyone wearing this much
leather will never govern themselves
with guilt. How do I sleep at night?
With your sons. With your husbands

beneath monogrammed cerulean silk.
One eye open & too much witnessed
to ever close it. I wanted to be powerful,
instead I became this. I’m not sorry

for Paris. You’ve known who I am
since the first pair of Jimmy Choos.