“I gave up everything for you, because I believed you. And you’re nothing but a liar. An aging, sloppy, selfish liar.” -Megan Draper
Wasn’t she once a fresh, cool glass
of water, or vodka on the rocks?
Both taste like regret in the morning.
She was your escape into Tomorrowland;
you were her dream man and she forgave
your drinking, how you spoke to her
like a simple child because she didn’t want
to be anything else, but the girl in the dress—
the eternal life of the party. You want to destroy her.
Another failed audition for the role of the sultry
siren, in black high heels. You’ve outgrown
ingenue status, but still expect directors to beg
you to be in their films and beds. You cannot
arrange a meet cute by calling their homes
and showing up at business lunches.
Your Mr. Draper has a type—he wanted you
to be glittery and new, but you’re another lonely woman
lost in the canyon. Your dreams of celluloid
can’t save you. Your purpose in skindeep,
and fleeting. The spiritual awakening
you claim, is just another costume you shed
in your dark little bungalow. Part of you still clings
to Don—wants to pretend you didn’t buy into his lies,
that you ascended beyond his archetype of the empty woman.
Marisa Silva-Dunbar’s work has been published in Sledgehammer Lit, Better Than Starbucks Magazine, Chantrelle’s Notebook and Pink Plastic House. Marisa is the founder and EIC of Neon Mariposa Magazine. She has work forthcoming in the Eyes Wide Shut anthology “Denmark.” You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @thesweetmaris. You can find more of her work at www.marisasilvadunbar.com.