Linger

A Poem by Ronda

A cat and mouse obsession...

This feeling chews the walls
around my abstract heart as
a painting lathered
in a disturbed flood
of light and shade.

You are running again,
far away from me,
stumbling in the dark that
you search through when
I am not with you.

And I call and I call, panting

with wonder of the life that

you lead when I am not there
as I throw that sales
pitch to nobody.

I pace the circle shaped
room in cement filled shoes
as I cannot think of
anything except
for last night.

Your hands on me and that

one last etching breath of skin

against mine and the hue of

wanting that neither of us can admit
and neither of us want to let go.

This is the lingering of
the abstract and oil filled
part of you that haunts

the controlled and

humid part of me.