Dancing with distraction

Disasters at every corner...

“Ill-met by moonlight,” is the poem I loved to pretend you wrote

Serene fevers overtake my heart, flooding the

Timbers of dark blue night without stars,

Reading something that was imposing and impossible in your unspoken gazes,

A scar that was once your fettered and space saving kiss... found like hide and seek...a

Caterpillar into a categorized pillar of pain

The growth that faltered in our undead waltz

It was not you, it was not me

Only a dream, it was

Now a canvas I cannot hold, frayed-edged and scarred, scared off paint...