A poem by Julia R. DeStefano

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash

Just Where You Left Me

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked.

Your eyes saying more than your lips.

Aching to learn the overflowing secrets

of my Sophia Loren dress

as it pleaded: “Be good to me.

Make me feel like the queen of all things.”

My words fall short.

I must want it too much.

Like I care too much.

Desirous for someone to protect me as I them.

To not be the only one going

the extra moonlit mile.

I wasn’t cold, not until you left.

Pulling on my robe.

Cinching it ‘round my tiny waist

to enclose me in comfort.

To protect me from these icicles that form

when my heart had just completed a thaw.

But the fleece is a poor substitute for you.

For your deft hands that are going to waste.

Your mouth needs a home.

A precious mind wanting peace, like mine.

Our hearts have always beat to the tune of their own drum -

haven’t they?

“It should be easier,” I think -

dizzily watching our moments of fleeting ecstasy

from my perch on the haunted fence.

A bystander engrossed in my own soap opera

when there’s a game on that I crave a partner to watch with.

Oh, you who knows the ways of me -

who sees through my nervous laughter

and furrowed brow when I start to overthink -

there’s a definition for us in the Dictionary,

and hurried interludes and stolen moments

ain’t it.

© Julia R. DeStefano

The Red Queen in her crown. YA & adult poetry. Love & relationships. I preserve moments in the glistening amber of language. #WhirlingIntoFlame now available.