I see you tucked away, there in the corner of this epic adventure.
A stowaway undermining, under the guise of love and concern.
I come for inspection, to work, and for respite every couple of days and we lock eyes.
With your back to me, and a mirror before you, I watch you watch me plead hello.
There’s a reason you do not respond to my greetings until the awkwardness becomes too thick to ignore me anymore.
You’re stealing and hoarding and leveraging me and what’s mine.
The awesome view from on high.
The space I’ve created to just be.
The aura I emit.
My ample supply of lust and cinnamon breakfast cereal.
My apathy in attending properly to it all.
Until yesterday, when the doorman warned me, so gracefully, you must go.
More precisely that I must say to you.
When you’re here, you’re not yourself, thus this means it’s time.
The Welcome sign at my doorstep you’ve taken far too far, my friend….
It was never meant for you, you know, I see.
Sin and God told me.
They were both tall and brunette
And, also like me, with child(ren)
Gentle in purpose, were we
We three moved through our space with womanly grace
Believing and knowing life was bigger than us
And yet, still, we seemed bigger than life
That day I felt my foot slip, I stumbled so slightly
My sister in her mind, offered assistance to me
She and I noticed your absence of hand
Upon her, the higher, we felt your eyes land
What was it, we wondered, you’d hoped to achieve
Moving your heart from the woman who’d believed
What puts me on edge about Spring is it makes no promises and refuses all requests.
Without notice, it could choose the craze of a Summer heat.
The best case scenario -such bravery in risking my lust.
Or on a dime, it delivers a confused dose of wintry wrath.
Snow that won’t live to see the weekend, so why-for dear Spring?
But woe be to me should Spring choose a most deviant trickery:
And leave me longing in only the long shadows of a forever Fall.
Disallowed to feel; love or lust or hope or trust, this is how I feel.
Discouraged to want; kindness, presence, endless laughter, this is what I want.
Disinclined to think; hope is dead, no heart, all head, that’s no way to think.