Expectations
Jan 4, 2021
Brittle fingers
Lit up by kind work
Creased and calloused
Mouth in a smirk
A still of a woman
That once was full-color
And maybe, long before
Maybe much more
I spy a dotted line
To cut out
Expectations for me
In the dust on my Sewing machine
And I feel A heart drop
In conversations with me
When I happen to
Sneak a word in
I‘ve learned how to listen
It’s taken me years
My mind isn’t present
All smile no ears
