You hold the promise
of an evening sky,
colourful with
the obligatory spots
of darkness.
For reasons of
self-preservation
my curious mind
is not allowed
to solve yet another
intriguing puzzle.
Gone are the days
when I considered it
a lofty purpose
to fix problems
I did not create.
My winter heart has
accumulated too many
bruises to rise to
the bait of curing
another soul.
So many of your
carefully cultivated talents
seem to unfailingly aim
directly at my soft spots.
It is a rare gift,
this thoroughness
at uncovering all
the places where I amount
to too little.
Would that you take your
artistry somewhere else.
I drift aimlessly, in limbo,
deliberately disconnected,
hesitating over every step
as if navigating a grid
without coordinates.
I hover above trivialities,
fret over minor matters,
and obsess about details
in an effort to distract me from
what needs to be addressed.
Procrastination on an
expert level is my answer
to controversy, my go-to mode
when I am unsure
where I stand with you.
She holds on to possible futures
in crystal balls,
and hangs dream catchers
to trap demons.
She always heals her bruises
in bubble baths,
and her screams are muffled
by loud music.
She holds her heart together
with safety pins,
and covers her scars
with coloured band-aids.
She dims a mean, harsh reality
with candle light,
and wards off cruelness
with chocolate.
She never fights back
for fear of the costs,
the curse of being born
with a gentle soul.
She leaks impatient magic
as she waves away your doubts
with an impetuous gesture
of her delicate hand,
her fast sun burning an additional
hole into your defences.
She sizzles with angry magic
as she punishes your resistance
by putting her hands
on those delicious hips,
her electrical storm travelling
down to the base of your spine.
She sparkles with wilful magic
as she manages to unhinge you
with one of her impish smiles,
her intensity sending your shy mind
on an outrageous adventure.
And your foolish heart
is giddy with excitement – again.
Stop redefining my boundaries
just to convince yourself
that you did not breach them.
Stop diminishing my pain
just to reassure yourself
that you did not hurt me.
Stop deconstructing my defenses
just to demonstrate
that they have been useless all along.
photo credit: commons.wikimedia.org
november child 
