Poetry / Sir Michael

Speaking to you
is like plucking eyebrows
tiny sensations of pain
over and over again,
pulling out hair
one strand of dignity
at a time,
just to look a little better

Hearing your voice
is an abscess reminder
of going away
and inflamed tension
that takes me weeks
to get over,
while my mind
attempts to rewind
and replay each word,
syllable and consonant

Staring at you
is like a reflection
of ones self in an addiction
be it a bottle
or mirror,
It’s a truth too hard
to swallow and too difficult to be near

Twenty years have gone by
since I first fell in love with you,
not a day has gone past,
where I didn’t grieve
over you and miss you the same,
you were the only one,
worth mentioning by name.

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