To My Fugitive Poem

 

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To My Fugitive Poem

You keep hiding from me.

I have searched under the bed and on the top shelf.

I have decluttered my desk, thinking I would find you inside.

You know I hate decluttering.

I have turned over every last scrap of paper, 

looked behind the drawers,

and inside the fireplace.

Our last conversation didn’t end well.

I have washed the windows, hoping to see you

lurking outside.

The house has never looked cleaner.

 I heard something in the street, so I ran outside

in my nightgown and slippers.

I thought I could hear you breathing, 

but you didn’t show your face.

Now I am back inside.

I am sitting here in silence,

with the curtains drawn and the lights out.

You will have to come home at some point.

We have played this game for so long.

You promised this time would be different.

So I wait.

I have always been naïve

that way. 

GloPoWriMo Day 12 - addressing a poem directly