I’m wearing my caring demeanor today
it’s her favorite.
I left my issues in the car
I promised her I’d never bring them here again.
The walk in is always the hardest
her bedroom door carries all of the tension.
She sifts through distant memories strewn across her floor
Her hair is lashing out and her face is empty
And I am eager.
Dazed by want
I land as the bed tries to push me away.
Her bed’s the jealous type.
She leaves to wash away her instincts,
and her bed lets me win.
The flash reaches out and pulls her into view
this corrupted carbon copy only a silhouette of what she really is.
An unlikely masterpiece sullied by hands struggling to remake her into something less.
Every inch of her heels is taken from me
and the color on my face stains her lips.
Her lace has more secrets than she does,
but on her they reveal everything.
I’ve never seen such attainable regret.
Those left unstill
she calls her loved ones just because they adore her
and yet, I am unmoved
while she remains in a performance of lure.
How can I compete with the lens that paralyzes the world around her?
I step closer.
Her door moves aside because it knows I won’t disappoint,
the echoes from her floor are deafening,
all I can make out is her bed in the corner
Her eyes, icebergs that will me to stop so close to a face
that will never smile for me.
I read the freckles on her face for what to do next
I am tortured
Much like the photos she takes of herself for men that can’t afford her.
Poetry arrangement by Mitchell Schneider