Tom

Is it you

When I get that sick feeling

Awful, and you understand?

You can’t even

Tearing, Tearing

Rip or cry

The terrible velocity of

Me and you and

The pit of my stomach

As I look at you – eye to eye

Though perception is blurred

Only to everyone but me –

I see.

Maybe it’s those glasses – the rose

It hurts my head like the smell of the perfume I’d never wear

And my hair

You extend to my waist – and it…

Stopping only where you would not

You twist and twirl and let it drop

So quickly like you slap my face

Never?

And I beg you to stop.

©Jenni Davenport