My hair is soft
A light shines next to me
Pale mint green shirt
The snow drifts into the tides of March
And an anxious irritability
An unsettling feeling of where
I have yet to get myself
The fears I turned over
And ingested into my mind
Like the udon soup I slurped down
Across from my love
His ruddy face that so often brings me joy
But I spend most our moments
Worrying if he even really likes me.

I tip toed on the edge of death
A colossal measurement of photos
Zooming past
As the umbrella at long last
Outstretched before my head
I read into it like one would the crook
Of an elbow or a book
And worry that because
I am this way or that
Or because I was born into
My daddy's hands becoming a lawyer mans
After long childhood years of picking cotton
On and in
To a blanket of wealth.

The door opens
It's time for bed now
After a greeting
Of just what he knows I would like
He is my love
And I am never right
Or he perfect
And nothing is ever all that wrong here
And I'm just learning
To let myself
Be happy.