Broken Compass

I needed you to be him.

Whose fingers condition my strands at dawn,
whose toes tickle my dreams in the dark.

The one who writes me poetry with his eyes
to read my intimacy in thought.
The night in day that clouds my heart like timid air,
the one who kisses my forehead and I feel it elsewhere.

Who calculates my heartbeats by long division
then translates imagery to release my tension.

Who holds my hurt and hugs my disappointment.

Who will shed a tear and make my wall disappear,
by brick
by brick
without using his dick.

He will smile at my strength and sighs at my sense of sensibility,
understanding that I have a father but have never had a best friend,
he will be the one to create the whisper in my wind.

He is the river that carries my breeze through,
oh how I needed you
to be

© LaRonda Moore


7 thoughts on “Broken Compass

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