Why don’t you smile,
As they do in rococo paintings.
Don’t think that if we’re not
Touching, it means I love you less.
The lazy cat purrs at our feet,
Smug in the warm sunlit apartment,
While we sip our coffee,
Avoiding one another’s eyes.
Just a fantasy, one of many,
Yet it fills me with calm.
Bubbling streams, the quiet of galleries,
And all that jazz.
You are another one, darling,
Who I have misunderstood.
I have stolen a part of your soul,
To keep in my mind, to use and abuse.
Somewhere along the years,
Perhaps even during recent moments,
Confusion has muddled my heart,
Making me wonder what this really is.