A Trivial Indiscretion

Posted in quatorzain by maggie on 2012/02/01

Your bedroom door's half open.  I'm supposed
to feel as welcome as if I belonged
as much at home with you as any dream
you've dreamed up on your own. How've I so wronged
myself this easily?  Let's keep it closed.

The door, yes that, but also what's been said
between us. Words show barely what they seem,
not when they're such rash promises in bed
unsuited to a street's concrete regime.

Disclosed or closed, exposures we express
were meant to be kept private, a disguise
to justify assumptions so misread
as to engage our bodies to the lies
our sheets lie, crumpled stale untidy mess.


Sincere comment by readers who accept responsibility for their words will earn my appreciation and response.

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