I promise I’m learning to crawl out of the soft, fleshy, psychoanalytic foyer carpeting that is you in my mind/ I do not think of you / not really, not until I’m getting ready to leave / in the dusk of the morning
& a single inside-out shag sock signals a sordid sense of every gentle moment we’d ever had. You will never laugh at my hopeless mess of imperfection like you once did.
For a single tick of the clock, turn of a hand, I am back in the doorway you first carried me through / so inexperienced but so
hopelessly
in love.