Vincent, On His Ear

Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash

You needed something, dearest,

for the longest time I didn’t know what.

The weeks and months we spent in sharing

the meager and the in-between times,

I searched as I could for the answer

and my angers swirled — so casually

conspicuous to those in the lanes

and shaving the fields, but enormous

in my sight and your eyes. So often

you seemed to understand, whether it was

pretense or my own vicious desire

presenting me that unfounded vision.

Your little girl knew, she understood

better, in a way beyond me, and you

gave her to me, to have that understanding

out of your way, out of your fear.

Of losing what? The few pennies

your surging thighs kept from me,

could garner from the casually conscious?

Theo was supportive, but warned me,

as ever. What could even he know here,

with his wife, and his rooms in Paris?

This is where my life is, where my soul lies,

here, where you once were, where you said

I never listened. Look at me now,

and hear how wrong you were, how wrong.

Happy Space Cats is a humor publication here on Medium looking for new writers and followers!

Possessor of Paul Newman eyes. Author of many things straightforward and strange. Some of them appear here. “Women zai shuo ba” as the Mandarin say. Born 2016.

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