shadow love

I feel like a shadow, peevishly following my corpse through the street.
I don’t have eyes to see you, my hand is a vapor to your touch,
But I sense you reach for me, and it is all too lovely, and it is all too much.

I feel so flat and earthbound in this dark, frail silhouette,
And I’m wary of your hunt within the boundaries of my printless tread.
I do not like this suit of dust, it is uncomfortable; I would go unfed.

But I sense your touch.
It is too lovely.
Too much.

emerson*

She makes me feel so small
And question the value of being tall.
She’s so obliging to my every request;
Energetic condescension at its very best.
Thrilled to come, thrilled to stay,
I watch her running through the day.
She says the most outrageous things,
Curls bounce to every song she sings.
She’s such a poser, a tiny bulldozer—
A warning to those who try to enclose her.
She’s sorry she doesn’t fit in that cage.
It doesn’t suit her three year-old age.