Hushed, whispering clouds
pillows stuffed with fresh cotton
lay the sun to sleep

You were perfect
bones, skin and locks befitting that
of royalty
your gaze, a burning tempest of bronze,
spoke a triumphant trill
a constant reminder of vibrant days since lost
you, lonely soldier, trudged into the lions den
lured in by false hopes, a venom laced tongue
the lion inside renders you his simple servant
taking your mind hostage and
chiseling down your star-speckled orbs to mere ghosts
caging the fluttering dove of your beauty
i spend sleepless nights weeping your fall
after your last ember has been quieted

I am a sock
My cotton exterior pilled and frayed
insides as soft and warm as down feathers

i lie in the drawer
without warmth or company
for one day
my match
the sock who has always suited me
my soft, silver striped soulmate
left my life forever
we were forced to go our separate ways
by some cruel sleight of paw
mi amigo was taken away from me
and brutely dragged down the hallway

life without my match is a gravel road
rocks dig into the uncovered feet
with a missing sock
life is incomplete

i've traveled thousands of miles
lifted hundreds of pounds
i stood in line for many hours
folded dozens of sweaters
i've tirelessly donated my body parts to you
but you still
don't have
my heart

tomorrow
i'll understand why my feelings
mean nothing to you
i'll learn to expect love
instead of letting you abuse my good intentions
i'll respect my own wishes
not giving my comfort up for yours
not being pushed around
free tomorrow