I leave you clues and speak in candid whispers

But you mistake them for girlish pillow talk.

And I am sidelined again,

shoulders sagging under the weight of my cargo.

Do you not hear the tension exploding like a pistol?

Instead you exult over the tassled fringes and crimson flare of the cape

that my ghosts shamelessly flaunt.

But the truth lies in the hidden pleats

of my unadorned petticoat, 

a sheath of muslin that lies beneath.

You ignore the dangerous curves of my question marks

preferring instead to focus on straight lines

between signature and soul. I warn you that

the distance cannot be measured

but you are already mapping your course,

cupping my sex with your sextant

I implore you, “Please don’t be taken in by this heart’s camouflage.”

It is sewn together with invisible sutures,

scribbled with alibis and

decorated with grief’s graffiti.

It is my equator where love and fear intersect and

truths are fashioned from memory and myth.

You try to muzzle me with kisses but my mouth is a megaphone:

“Tread lightly.”

You mount a festooned steed to conquer my wilderness.

But I’m not searching for salvation, I only want

someone to vanquish the loneliness between

heartbeat and heartbreak.