Monday, July 21, 2014

Wrung Towel

Keep trying to not think of you
Like a twist of the arm wrung like a towel
Time unfurls pulling a familiar direction
However inaccessible

When the energy to attempt to progress wanes
The image of who I wanted you to be returns to form
Like a ghost of a martyred heroine
Recollected in the vein of King, Jesus, or Gandhi

Or someone you never were
Just a stitched together fabrication of colors
Not your claim, just my thirst for a requited love
Able to provide what you needed

Wondering if that ever would have been
Enough to feel like you understood interdependence 
Like a blood track of roots drinking from an irreplaceable reservoir
Knowing what I was wanting and ready

The twine of ambivalence and fear strangle the images
Of who we were in bed sheets and at breakfast tables
The chocolate and the blueberry
The paste makes me feel like no one if not that time


So damn hungry! 

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