Dragonflypoetry.com

The trouble started up again. 

Violet had something

she needed to tell me

and without words of question

I found myself 

ready to listen. 

Violet came crashing in

like how she always does. 

Me and my peaceful day

were asked to brace ourselves. 

Violet has some news. 

Against a thousand blinks and signs

Violet still looks

so fucking beautiful. 

The smell of her

one off perfume

her glowing skin

I am simply drawn to her

and no one else.  

She centered us

by taking her proper place,

sitting squarely 

in my lap.  

Her news was set and ready

and there on the tip of her tongue

she began to whisper

starting with,

“Now poet,

you know you’re the one.”

I was unaware

of her ever loving

any other. 

She and her demeanor

 inched up super close

all tucked in deliberately 

next to my ear,

“I need your every ounce.”

I looked at her

from a mirror

across the room.  

All I could see

was her child-like frame

all close and private. 

She squirmed and settled in,

and continued with

“I’m sick.”

Just two words,

her decree. 

I waited for more,

some kind of explanation

I needed more 

of her words. 

Violet fell desperately quiet, 

her eyes and head

buried on my shoulder. 

I held the weight of her

for the first real time

she was scared. 

The image in that mirror

instantly looked different,

and I squeezed her. 

No access to the words

to her news,

here stuck in my throat. 


To be continued…