| You |

You
--

I don’t feel like writing about you,
And yet I Do

You who pull yourself on,
Clad in white uppers
Beneath, the black bellows

You who come around me
At the dead of night
Various speeds, almost a shadow of

the zooming black car
Or the dragging white one
I stand, keep looking at you

Afraid, fearful, that if you
Look at me, I will live
And die too,

leaving my fingers trivial
These words inconsequential
You who walk around me

Wanting to give me a hug
Giving not still, being patient
Waiting for your time

Giving me time, why?
To enjoy your other shades
Not white or black alone

But those, my eyes
looking at you,
can see in your tears
and me wanting,

To shake hands with you
For your smile,
Alone, forlorn, walking, dragging,
On and on and on

Without me or my poetry
A sham, and yet I do,

Though I don’t feel like writing about you
Tell me why I do?
Though I don’t feel like writing about you,
And yet I do…