Some days I understand your standoffish-ness,
others I’m left floundering in discombobulation.
More often than not I’m a victim of your whiplash;
the forever shifting tides of your emotions.
Some days you tell me that this is eternal,
others you scorn the notion of our union.
More and more it seems I’m the king in your chess ploy,
and your deigning when to mate me.
Some day I’ll walk away from it all,
though can any other fit quite so snug?
More realistically it’s a juncture of natural disasters-
we’re just content on the scope of the damage.
Tell me one day we’ll rebuild the ruins-
be archeologists and discern the meaning of it all.
Make me believe the years didn’t flutter like camera shutters-
that this snapshot wasn’t all for naught.
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