To Be Loved

Sitting in the bathroom
Waiting for a revelation
That I know will never come
Before hiding in the mist again
Like the men she likes
to hide
I feel invisible
A paperweight
On an abandoned journal

Praying for rain but kneeling before fire
pieces of summer caught in tiny icicles
Beauty insurmountable
purging her eyes hollow
Streets, corners, curves, hands
Can’t paint
Maybe frost really covered it all
I don’t know

Maybe spring will send me off late this year
Because her eyes couldn’t be bluer at the end of last November
Or any other color
She’d say she’s lost that privilege
Maybe one day I’ll learn
Just what she meant by that

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