I’m so cold
my fingers are chaffed to crepe
and I think of you
curling my bunions and split ends into smiles
you who thought my high forehead, regal and grand
you who turned my flaws into delights
misting unflattering mirrors to better light
I think of you and how
I felt when you regarded me
with the bright eyes of love
that dimmed and winked out
gradually until even the blind could see
you no longer held me in your esteem
that’s when I told myself
don’t depend upon the love of others
to hold you to the light
do not need the touch of someone who desires you
to be all right
but who am I kidding?
even the flower
the feral cat and mocking bird
the sky, the earth and all between
even the damn puddles and muddy stream
needs someone to say to them
you look lovely still
you make my heart skip a beat
even if it is a bush or bramble hedge
maybe out there in the wild there are
lovers for everything
whilst I
try to find in not being loved
the companionship of silence
but it is not
no it is not
good enough
for quiet endurance does not have
your caring arms
holding me from the world
turning me from lead to precious metal
nor the ardor of your eyes
reminding me to shine
when I think I cannot
that hope is lost
the day you turned your head
no longer delighted by my flaws
I am just ordinary now
and a bunion is a bunion
sticking out of my shoe
at rude angle
as sorry as any malformed bone could be
to lose such fantasy