Thursday, February 14, 2013

On Remembering It’s Valentine’s Day

 


It registers as shy –
this inward state of yours –
a sort of loneliness – soft cry,
perhaps, from somewhere
in you you’ve not understood:

or understand too well.
Though here I swell
with psychoanalytic narrative
again – imagining I know.
That can’t be good. Today

I wish you were my pet.
I’d cuddle and caress you –
let you sleep right in my bed.
Unless you wanted
something else instead.










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