Do you know me?
Would you like to know me?
For an hour, for a day, for a night.
What size of me is palatable?
Am I enough?
I’m trying not to be.
To intrigue but not to satiate,
To hold but not to have.
You wouldn’t want it,
Not if I were really offered.
To want to know me,
Such a prettier thing than knowing me.

Not again, not you
I have worked too hard
Not to have changed.
I had chosen kind words
4, 7, 8
It did not have to go this way.
Then I look up
Teeth centimetres deep
A pit in my stomach
Blood on my chin.
Your eyes, soft and brown
Different than before
Brutalised by
Patience worn thin.

Our words are shared
Our minds aquaint
I see my favourite part of me
In your favourite part of you
While our delights dance
Our dormant selves awake
Such a shame that we
Are all we have in common

I break a sprint
To go forward, or far away?
My breath shortens
I latch on
You carry me forward
Oh, I admire your pace
But this is my stop
Enjoy the rest
If I squint
I still see you
Miles ahead

He adds the figures
Strikes through the mistakes
And gasps.
With all the respect
He feels he’s owed
He could afford
A better life

How do I know you?
Where have we met?
Those eyes, that gesture
Paths crossed, this I bet
You avoid my glance, I linger
Please do not think I stare
This familiarity
Becomes too much to bear

I endeavour to move closer
Your limbs twitch away
I do not mean to startle
But may I ask your name?
You do not want to know me
I wonder why this is
My advances trigger
Good will goes amiss

The moment arises
I steal your time alone
I ask “why do you shrug me”
You say “you are the home,
I ran from fervently
No stake in to return”
A ghost of you would converse
The present you has learned

My tongue is prisoner to my teeth
Lips pursed tight enough to hold
Back words I do not mean
Blooming from hurt unaddressed

Yes, you are right
I mean this not facetiously
But could I be right too?
Is there a middle ground to breach?

Your years hold wisdom I am yet to seek
I cannot share the fruit from your labour
Though your plate overflows
And you offer from an open palm

My frustration is my own
Thank you for your interest
Though it comes delivered wrapped
In paper that cuts my fingers