3.25.06

I'm standing
in the middle of the room
shirt, skirt, inhibitions
discarded and lying rumpled on the floor
at our feet
while your eyes regard me
and with every sixty seconds
I age
and crumble with the pyramids.

You look away
and I feel
all forty lashes fall
heavy on the edges of your dear eyelids,
cutting into the skin
of my naked back.
You would think
that the blood mascara would be a hint;
you must know
what you do to me.

You look away
and I feel
all forty lashes and more
fall heavy from the edges
of your dear eyelids
onto my naked back,
slicing and dicing
and I fall to pieces.

Here, in the middle of the room, with
shirts, skirts, pants,
inihibitions
and bits and pieces
of wounded me
on the floor like confetti,
I can't help but wonder;
after all this time,
you know how loving
gets me into such a state.

You look away from me,
standing naked and unconditional
with the question written
all over my face
and I feel the forty lashes
and more
fall heavy from your lovely lids
onto the bare skin
of my stomach, sides, everything-
falling to pieces.

Still, through it all,
I know they will come back together
and you'll lift your lashes once again
to look me
square in the eye
and this anticipation of truth,
honesty and certainty
makes the stinging wounds quieter,
makes them seem very shallow,
much more
temporary-
manageable.

You look away
and the forty lashes fall,
but the foresight of my own open eyes
has calmed the calamity
so that even as I bleed
and crumble with the pyramids
you stand your ground
and I love you still.