How you pull me down and up
at once.
In you I see ancient, raw days
when I brought something polished
and fine and you,
face down,
eyes darting,
question my sincerity
which I prove again
and again, for now.
How you pull me down and up
at once.
In you I see ancient, raw days
when I brought something polished
and fine and you,
face down,
eyes darting,
question my sincerity
which I prove again
and again, for now.
9 responses to “In the middle of the night”
How hard it can be to prove sincerity… it takes time, and can break in an instant.
Or else it isn’t really wanted? Sometimes I wonder about that …
Like you, I often write poetry based on memory, or rather the emotion that a particular event evoked. You captured the feeling, for sure.
Thank you, Victoria. So appreciate your feedback.
There is a heartbreak in this–bringing the polished and fine gift and having it unappreciated. At least that is what I saw. Something hard to forget/forgive.
Yes. You always see.
because you show me 🙂
If polished as much as this, I certainly understand the frustration. (And, “frustration” probably isn’t adequate.)
Yes. Sometimes it is worth a wonder. 🙂