My thoughts meander
In first person
Through geometric patterns
Woven with dreamy glow

I am the centre of the culvert
Which bends towards you
And then disappears behind
A foliage
Of ugliest brown
Vintage solitude.

I am the incline
Of the scale
Which refuses to measure
Your lengths
In my breadths
And the hypotenuse of
Long dead human concern
Longer than the sum
Of your lengths in my breadths.

I am the radius
Of the ellipses
Which dot the ends
And enjambments
In all sentences
I create and destroy
Within the haven of
Illuminated text boxes.

I am the angle
Between my desire
And your ego
Acutely aware of the
Obtuse notions
You straightened in your head
At quarter past nine
Over an empty flute of wine.

I am the point at which
Reality blurs
Into forcibly conjured dreams.
Nightmares of your departure
Touched by the feathers
Of my dreamcatcher.

You left.
Nightmares left.
I am the circumference
Around the dreamcatcher
Swaying without a centre.

PS – Today, I pick up a past poem, for that is where the heart and mine dwell. For now.

(Featured Image – http://www.newhealthguide.org/What-Does-Dreamcatcher-Tattoo-Mean.html)


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