A Day

You were a stranger without that look,

a hidden flickering game
of indifference that hits me with

a shrouded pathway from the eyes.

I didn't know you, but I knew you didn't

need my sanity to stay. You'd stay anyway.

And when you didn't ask for conformity,
it shattered, fell limp.

You stayed awake for me that night
and took nothing but my gentle presence
to breathe relief to deep hollow.
I buried my head, you swayed.

My ice and your stone broke well before the sun
came up through the window where I first left home.

You didn't alter, strong current set us eye to eye.

I hid my upper lip, you told me it was perfect.

You permanently stand in my thoughts
and you didn't try. But I see you even now.

I was in, you let me be there.
No doubt you saw all of me.


For a day. Then you didn't care.