xxxv.

the tailor

. . .

tousled in linen
ive been woven and spun
im your naive possession
under the false impression
that we have just begun

and my eyes have been stung
by your ambiguous gaze
with your needle so sharp
in spite of actions blase

you have cautioned my heart numb
with the pins of warning
from your tongue
yet i can tell it beats on
towards a disposition of waste
under the influence
of your fabricated taste

and my placement is quite low
this i well know
below memories of her
amid the love you still sew

and your kisses leave me full
with the heavy words you do not say
yet your spindle pulls me closer
regardless of the ends you've let fray

and though this is not where i want to be
i stay because its where you placed me

this is where i am

im just beyond your reach
nestled in the canopy of unspoken
after questionable words breached
before curious hearts broken

this is where i now stand

but, really i mostly kneel
begging what's left
of myself
not to feel

to turn in the sheets
and stay out of your grasp
to not notice your distraction
to teach myself not to ask

and your work is almost done
an addition to your sleeve
my heart is all but sewn on
but its affections you cannot see

you do not notice it bleed

i realize now that i am just
your spare parts
regretfully i gather whats left of myself
yet i am still searching for my heart


-me