Rest on my table by my bed
In your brightly coloured dress;
Signs of were and is and might still be
All piled together in white and pink.
I may acknowledge but I resent
I want what it was and what it wasn’t.
These days I can’t seem to make
My own mind amidst the contradictions.
It’s not your fault-
Or maybe it is- I know not.
So I keep staring.