Shadow

“A shadow does not belong to the figure that casts it.”
I painted your shadow with rainbow acrylics.

I used my fingers to swirl and dazzle and putty it‘s cracked exterior.

I wrote our future stories all over it with bold sharpie fantasies and broken desperate promises.

I stretched it this way and that trying to find some kind of fit for either of us.

I creased and trimmed and tattered and folded over the best loved corners.

I pinned you to the ceiling above my bed, folded you neatly into my breast pocket, swallowed you whole and hid under the security screen of you in every relationship I’ve had since the day your shadow crossed mine.

I suppose that’s why you wouldn’t let me sew it back on you, abused as it was. Or is it more that you don't want to give your shadow up, don't want to flesh it out. It doesn't matter. What I have isn't yours. and you can't have it without me.