i want to stop being angry
but i saw how you looked at her
i want to stop being angry
but i saw how you kept looking at her
i want to stop being angry
but you haven't talked to me since last may
when the sun was beating down
and the grass was too green
and you held my hand
and i broke your heart
but you swore we were still friends
because i was more than a girlfriend to you

i want to stop being angry
but nobody looks at me the way you look at her
not even you

the shadow picks
a nice path on your face;

across planes,
                        in wells
I never drank from,
                        on a pink bud
from which I stole
sugar
        instead
of
tasting.

Where words slipped
I thieved, not
                       kissed.

shadow hovers
as a bee
             searching
for pollen
in darkness.

It loves all
the places
                I missed

because

I substituted French phrases for
your limbs;
spoke to your
light
in a language I didn't quite
know yet

but

sounded
         like
              like
the poetry found

in light's absence.