by Quinlan L Gibson
There is no substance.
No skin and bones; a form, not a figure
that stands the hairs on the back of my neck.
Not easy to forget yet, detachable.
You are intent without intention
a dangerous interaction of Jekyll and Hyde
Too disguised to decipher
and leaving tracks on my arm.
Not a friend, but a fragment
a stream of stagnant fluidity
The Gemini; evicted in spirit
Dried and damaged; taking advantage
Now sit on the curb with your baggage
Posted on 03/17/2017
Copyright © 2018 Quinlan L Gibson