Well,
You are fragile.
Like the floor-boards you say will crack
with every
step.
so I tip-toe down the hall
and i'm past her room,
(that you stole)
into the kitchen,
(you control)
where I find you
an infant at the age of 52.
Sometimes I stomp
(my intention)
in vain, I suppose,
(you love the attention)
and, as if
by divine intervention--
you stir,
you sit up,
and the house is awakened
deafened by the sighs, the tears, the rage and--
exhalation.
You return to hers,
I retreat to mine.
And my eyes burn.
Red marks of a splotchy design.
Scratchy throat.
Aching spine.
They say 'time heals all wounds"
You know the rest.
Over the hill
The cracked and withered trunks wrap around one another
For warmth I assume,
Are they cold?
Do they love each other?
Like I love you?
Do they whisper,
So silent,
As the wind passes through?
Hands gravitate towards hands
It’s instinctual,
I think,
So,
When branches hold branches,
Find me there,
And let me know,
May our arms intertwine,
Roots tangled with mine
Your love is my evergreen.
If I pet you each night, will you live forever?
If I hold you so tight, in bed, or wherever?
“Sweet Angel,” “I love you,”
“Little baby,” “So clever” --
I’d give you the world
But you just want my sweater.
Will three drops of wine keep you this way?
Will a sparkling fountain keep sickness at bay?
Please tell me, are you hurting?
Or do you just want to play?
I know this is silly, believe me,
however —
Excuse me as I search
“How to make a cat live forever”
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