she turns
sunlight glints over lenses over mocha eyes
chocolate hair
cut in a bob, sophisticated and daring
compared to her once-rapunzel-locks
she wears her favorite boots
and a smile
open as a dictionary and yet
i still can’t read her
she must have
a heart of steel
to put up with what i’ve dealt her
she is the page of cups
and i’m the nagging wild card
sneaking shuriken around every page turn
and yet she smiles through
the blood on her nimble calloused fingertips
counting one, two, three, four
while i sit in silence
streaked mascara and pulling hair
wondering which combination of words
will get me out of this one
she is the goddess of tolerance
and she deserves more
from me
–
written m25apr2011.
a birthday gift for a friend.
–
idiography 