My Gray Tweed Lover
By Jimita
A thing is defined by what it is not: space and form light and dark love and hate. Your nebulous gray tweed existence, herringbone rigid, sought a splash of color in abrupt declarations of digital love I was startled, then intrigued, and before I knew what had happened I wanted you desperately, fallen victim to your tender words and wistful dreams, your confession of lust and love But your love existed only in the abstract stolen moments online while your wife went to the store, never suspecting the hearts you broke in the name of your dreams and desire to embellish your conventional, prosaic life fearful of the real you shunted me away aghast when my love became tangible evidence that you must now hide You cower behind your colorless warp and weft over and under with numbing sameness but I refuse to be your slub your splash of irregularity, an aberration in your monochrome world Now my hate equals my love but soon to become indifference Written February 13th, 2002 © on Feb 13 2002 06:09 AM PST 0 • 8
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