Whether consciously or not
I’m unable to say
but more than vaguely
and less than obviously
you drew me in.
 
Side winding your way
through my cluttered reality
you covered my soul,
yet without crowding me.
 
You withdrew
without leaving me
entirely alone.
 
Whether painlessly or not
you’re unable to say, really
but more than one time
and less than others
you carved your incision.
 
With easy skill, twisting your way
through my distracted morality
you used all the old ways,
yet without showing me.
 
You withdrew
without leaving me
entirely whole.
© Una-Melina // Worthy Books & Things, 1995.