Disquieted, discomforted I reached for his embrace.
Only morning glory holds my loneliness at bay.
Encircling my band hand, dangling with remembrance of youth; knotted bangles, each representative of the years I’ve longed for and searched for him.
I awake to the jazz sounds of ‘Good Morning Heartache’, grateful for the glimpses I receive of who he may be. His invisibility in my 1st plane manifests as an audible sigh of vitriol and mocking laughter. In response to who I am, he has a lack of desire for me physically. His absence conveys he’s not even a maybe and not a surety, not a trust, and not to be relied on.
By Jerriè McGill