muffled songs
of a bruised lion’s meow,
playin’ blame game with Narcissus,
attempts to break patterns
cycling around you,
treading over my anger
in all the unfolding places
it hides -
recycled love to get us through
the weather
that has trapped our hearts in,
in the bend
where if you close your eyes
I can run and hide,
tried and tried,
still so contrived, though,
and I can’t love like that -
a stranger in my bed
and in my house,
in my head,

a leg for a *******,
a tongue and kiss for a palm,
a touch or grip for a broken heart,

you never played fair, anyway