Leftover Possession

I will always reach
for your hand and
I will always dig
my fingers through
your hair and my palms
will always rest on the
small of your back
because they are
manifestations of the
way I attempt to
give you comfort.

I just want the next girl
who falls in love with you
to know from the start that
she may walk into a room to
find my legs draped over yours,
but that you’ll definitely be
going home with her with
no argument from me.

That it doesn’t mean a thing.
That it is only a comfort.
That you are no longer mine
any more than I am yours.

Which is totally
and completely
and always.

But only in that place
of leftover possession
that holds me hostage.
This one has been sitting in the queue for awhile and I’m tired of looking at it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.