It seems that I confused myself with you;
and disentangling me is taking time:
the way I look at woman, look at you;
the graze my nail draws down my chin line.
Assumptions surface to be questioned close;
identities in doubt shimmer and fade;
habits that rested easy in a groove,
indulgences that strutted their parade...
For who I am just would not do for you;
yet I must do for me, that much is true.
Until I easy sit in my own skin,
and turn the daggers sharp from me within,
I seek dark insight from an empty bed,
and cobweb-cure the wounds within my head.
YOU ARE READING
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
PoetryThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
