today i noticed something
small beneath your left eye.
in all the hours i spent
falling and pulling myself
from you, i never looked.
or maybe i only thought it now.

there is a catalog of your flaws
that i can't help but adorn
with so much tethered terror.
each one settles beneath
my eyelids, and blinks
when i wake and sleep.

someday, one minute or another,
you will look at my body
and your tongue will
finally spout something final
on what you know about this.
this shallow pit i lie in.

and i do lie, almost all to myself,
things i don't want to say aloud.
moments my lungs can't hold away.
when i come home, check mail,
open and close doors around me,
i am praying you won't be here.

03/14/2007

Posted on 03/14/2007
Copyright © 2025 Meghan Helmich