Through the Tiffany Window.

His words fell into and outside of me,
Some fey wander
I put blanket terms over charming boys
Faded into the background
Her glamour is made up eyes
Black and glossy Hepburn
I wanted to tell him why breakfast at tiffanys
Brought flutters to my fledgling heart
Why my whiskey soul thirsted
Dying embers yearning.
I had a love once, who called me fireworks,
He saw the depths I let him see
Chagall art piece masquerading teen romance.

I thought I lost my panache at 18,
Storm in a teacup, ironed shirts
Playing at grown up with ikea relationships,
Easily bought, hastily assembled
It took me 24 years to understand
The loneliness I carried was a gift.

The one word triggers,
Berry flavoured lip balm, a breeze of wind,
The scratch of his stubble:
A push door against my pull war.
I likened my first love to a menace,
His name a cartoon I never watched,
A progeny of prophetic lust,
His love my prostetic limbs,
I wanted to be whole more than I knew
Before I figured I’d spent
My whole life trying to be someone else.
Another version, eschewed.
The monotony taught me
The one question that burned
Inside and out of me:
How can you be when you’ve never been?

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