Etchings

Would that I could have etched my affections into the stone chambers of your heart
But how long would that have taken me, bashing against that impervious surface
More than one lifetime, which is all that I have to give, and that just a shadow left of what I once had

Would that I could have etched my name to sit upon your lips like a savored and delicate morsel
Instead of it falling from them in frustration, once or twice,
The irritation echoing like sandpaper upon my soul with deep gritty lines causing me to flinch

Would that I could have etched my reflection upon your lids each night as your last vision before slumber
Instead I was forgotten before I was even fully formed in your sight
Dismissed, discarded, disdained like yesterday’s fast-food wrappings eddying in hot air beside the roadside

Instead I was an objet’d erotica and my affections bounced off of thickened skin, never penetrating the surface
Three lifetimes would not have pierced your granite passageways
Even if I’d had possession of that treasured map

Instead my name became a hated thing within your mouth, distasteful
Anger and vitriol poured forth from those hardened chambers
Even as I turned and walked away with gentle sadness

Instead I was a distorted reflection of all the things that others have done before me
Echoing through you like a fun house mirror gone into endless replication
Even as I revealed more I felt you withdraw deeper

Etching is not permanent, it can be abraded away if the surface is soft and malleable

Your etching has fallen off of me…
Mine never gained purchase on you.

~Inspiration: First failed attempt to learn to love after widowhood

SMK