Maybe I am the dark forgotten hill
that became odder and other
creatures slowly left my vines,
for clearer less vague paths.

Maybe I could only talk in riddles,
because my language
is the most fragile skin
your tongue could ever taste.

Maybe my point of comparison
is unbridgeable from yours
I will only always be yours
affectionately misunderstood.

Maybe understanding is overrated
to someone in perpetual survival.
I am always wary of the form
that offers me sustenance,
if they intentionally know
what I’m hungry for.

04/14/2023

Posted on 04/14/2023
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