Ill Fitted Glass
Ill fitted glass
in frames of disrepair
looking inward
I find the warp and wobble
of old panes soothing
a moonish hazy view
of CDs no longer played
yellow duck boots in the corner
dusty immovable
next to the green couch
my side wearing thinner
I turn in circles
no matter when I stop
all I’ve done
is faced
another direction
but I was already
where I wanted to be
I can’t touch you anymore
can’t see my smile
in the reflection
of your glasses
sometimes
when you laughed
I’d forget to breathe
Ruthie Benjamin said,
November 7, 2012 at 3:07 am
I love this.