I can’t look her in the eyes. Compelling me to not, her eyes, my own.
Stop at the bridge light, muffleing tires, sorry babies. Slender as the beast,
open controlling, my blinks, brought to her own. Pause, give it back
(it was never mine in the first place). How does the ground turn soft, malleable? She: the softness.
Age and up, we look alone as two from humble beginnings. I’ve done
much I couldn’t, just grazed the surface.
I am at her fall, open and ready, too much to begin with. I can’t.
Resemble much of the same, warm toned opposites.
Until she dies, breaking soul with but two flaws; my own. How she dances,
of not one I can do, poised movements, little steps, quiet. Split, rye-colored smiles,
handed the changes. From her to me. Unknown simplicity: by definition.
Was simply made from the idea of her skeleton. Was born for that
comparison. I can’t.