If irony is ebony-

Then I am imagery...

Fractions caught in the wind.

There's a silky body by the spike,

It glints all black and smooth.

It haunts me like loneliness,

And disturbs me like love.

I would kick it away;

If it weren't so damn beautiful,

And I wasn't captivated

by the thought,

of what it might be,

to know it intimately.

For it to be everything I could ever need.

To need it more than air or water,

or any of those elements,

that just won't admit defeat and retire.

It is more fundamental than my pessimism.

And more protective than my One True Love.

But he owns it too,

(for how could I love him if he did not?)....

But, alas,

I have lost the imagery,

of the black body in corner.

Knowing me as only irony can.