Half A Dozen Little Thoughts

The mockery of a shadow    
betrays our years      
a personal sundial      
whiling away our time      
a ticking clock      
a constant      
reminder      
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your love reminds me of      
a panel saw      
smooth slide in      
two counter rotating blades      
honed sharp    
the first pulls me in  
the second      
cuts me apart    
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spider webs hang between      
tin waves     
collecting dust     
roof pitched off kilter      
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Rows of grout     
linear      
lines      
run in perfect tracks      
white squares neat     
there it lays jagged      
imperfection    
highlighted by perfection.      
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Words have no weight    
yet the substance of yours      
tie me to my chair      
binding me here    
a thick rope of nothing      
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cold water hits      
my still steaming      
shoulders      
     
I wash your poetry      
from my lips