Our spring of trying too hard

Made the elegance stiff and obsolete.

I saw it in your eyes, starched and whitewashed

(the hardening pupils);

But then you looked away.

I’m still trying to find the secret signs

You never left behind for me.

-

The trickery is pure satire;

I’d laugh if it weren’t my own.

You’d laugh either way, choked full

and drunk off of cheap iron wine (the dregs still swirling, carousel-style)

The relationship has sunk to a temperature

Below sub-zero. It makes the nights muggy

and the chalk lines by day unbearable.

You love to

Make me feel unfulfilled, because you know what completes the puzzle.

You love to be the missing piece.

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feels like I haven't posted in forever.