Tuesday, December 24, 2013


i saw only what you saw

sleek as glass
      what you would have me see

i believed only what you believed
                          what you would have me

and I sewed your shadow on
I found myself
faithful girl that i am
if only                  you were
                                         eternally young
                                                                    looking for you
it might be

But you are
not really here.
You are a figment of your own imagination.
You are a masterpiece,
long labored over,
bursting I became
painted layers,
softer than plush
oil on canvas.
                                                                                        blood warmed
then, did my water blend
so well with thick phantom pigment?
My water mixing, sloshing, as if to fight
for my own color and display.
                                                                                leaving you to your work
My water, sea for you to swim in-
mistaken manatee
My water flowing
like tears that proved my worth.
My water, the pond
of discovery
by which you saw your own reflection.
when the pond rippled,
fact and fiction
my water betrayed,
muddying, jeering with question,
sleek like glass
moving maddeningly, moving me.
I could not be still and I broke the mirror
                               and the silence and
so my own
and you left.
softer than plush
You took your brushes and your cast.
You took my past.
You left a likeness of my voice
that bubbled up, choking, from the dead.

Scaly and flopping,
gasping for the invisible.

You breathed into me.
You gave me life
                       in story.

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