He and I

I sit folded across an almost vacant table

a spectacle of filigree features in front of me

I stare my old friend down with a guilty glance

not yet satisfied with our agreement

of broken promises I have yet to redeem

He doesn’t blink

A perfectly printed face upon that beaten piece

of parchment.  His eyes are always open

I question how he sees me, through the broken

window panes and through the crease in his

left eye.  Does he smell the undeniable greed that

lingers along my finger prints.  Can he

tell that temptation runs through my veins as

overindulgence tickles my belly and kisses my thoughts

how it smolders and licks the burning embers of my heart

I wonder if I will fail under the pressure of the universe

if the solar system will force my star dust particles

to finally let go. Is satisfaction beyond reach or is its beginning

where both meet.

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