Goddamn you
I feel sick to my stomach when I see you
I feel sick to my stomach when you leave
you stare at the my dialating pupils
wondering which one is telling the truth
and which one lies as it speaks:
knowing your sides
is memorized rote
and the act of getting by
marres my bones.
oh, the chill
it’s chilly
on the sea of my hands
and it’s warm
on the island;
unbalanced unsurity
and a twinge of doubt–
come again,
and go back out
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 