Susan is emotions blossomed in wrong season,
never her eyes let me estimate the true depth of her feelings
I see them apologize candidly in the next moment,
I try to understand her compulsions.
In fleeting moments I get a glimpse of her
emotional education totally gone wrong
creating within her wrong time flowering.
Susan is passion, but struggles for right expression
her panting and chanting amorous nonsense
is her prop to climb stairs with me, but she never holds my hand
helplessly I watch her fall down from the top stair,
and writhe in shame and guilt, I try to alleviate, in whichever way I can.
Susan's messed up garden of childhood is a secret
that seeped out from the fables and legends she would recount
I curtain it off, when we lay cuddled and see dreams
That frozen December, I hate, that comes as an uninvited guest
regularly in our lives, we try to forget
I wake up dreaming her step with me in to
the warm garden of spring, and see her sleep smiling.
This Susan my persona visits is a conundrum from real life