Proposition

If his happiness was whole
my love for him could remain
a stagnant pool
contained inside my chest—
it would be enough
to know his love was returned
by someone he adored—
but when I became to him
a sympathetic confidant
entrusted with the status of his love,
I couldn’t help but quiver
at reports of insufficient affections
and uninspiring conversations—
so how can I be blamed for wishing
to remedy these deficiencies
by molding my body around his form
and whispering in his ear
a reminder that this world contains
alternative sources of happiness—
and I’d like very much
to be one of them.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-21-17

Painting by Pablo Picasso “Girl Before a Mirror” 1932

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