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.
Poems from in between 
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.
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Or else it isn’t really wanted? Sometimes I wonder about that …
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Like you, I often write poetry based on memory, or rather the emotion that a particular event evoked. You captured the feeling, for sure.
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Thank you, Victoria. So appreciate your feedback.
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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.
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Yes. You always see.
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because you show me 🙂
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If polished as much as this, I certainly understand the frustration. (And, “frustration” probably isn’t adequate.)
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Yes. Sometimes it is worth a wonder. 🙂
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