She rides the soles
Of my quickening boots,
An ink stain,
A Rorschach, a silhouette
Churning in ambivalent light.
I fear that she does not
Love me anymore.
She envies my density
And I in turn the wisp
Of her figure for it knows not
The duplicity of angles.
–
Wherever I go she accompanies
Without resolve or solicitation
But in recent months
I have come to sense
Her displeasure.
I find her out of sync,
Ill-fitting and I think
That we are growing apart.
It’s a lack of communication,
These things always are,
But when I press her
She refuses to speak.
–
In time she’ll undress me
Find her way into my heart
And take root as all those before.
In time the color will fade
From my eyes and then the eyes
From my face and I’ll become her.
mindlovemisery 