A Faberge Egg

A Faberge egg on its pedestal,

So, intricate a beauty.  I felt safe,

But sensed the weakness you had for a waif,

I, poetic and maybe radical,

No not radical, but the rage you saw,

Stuck in gridlock.  Was it quite appealing?

A different flavor in the adult wing,

A girl whose portrait you might like to draw.

Go easy on me, slowly, slowly, slowly.

Why do I punish myself for your crime?

I said no in your apartment that time,

It was over then, done, I set you free.

Let’s go back to the time I couldn’t speak.

I want to climb inside your lap to cry.

I trust you even when I’m weak, so weak,

But words are bloody. Tears can clarify.

We do not speak.  I see us in that room,

You rock me in the rhythm of your womb,

And understand when I need not explain,

Even if I could, with your heartbeat there,

The soft crackle of the fluorescent lights,

The walls illuminated day and night,

The scent of your perfume and of your hair.