Reading your poem

Too much

To sink in.

I do not ask to be plunged

Into a snuggly toed cocoon.

 

The way I feel

When I eat that muffin.

I want to feel it

When I want to feel it.

 

Whirled into your world

Was not where I wanted to be.

Even though I had felt it before

Then was manufactured naturally.

To be reeled inside

My own memory yet not by my own beckoning.

 

Sitting on the stairs, knees hunched up

Listening to the rain bashing down

on the overhead windowpane.

And feeling comforted.

 

Even though it was not unpleasant

The speed at which it evaporated off the page, up my nostrils

And hunkered down uninvited beside my internal fireplace

Was unsettling.

My kneejerk reaction told me it did not possess the purity

Of organically melded mood.

Maybe it was selfish but I felt it almost an act of self-preservation.

 

So I had to stop

Reading your poem.

 

 

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