under the awning of the window
in your room, leaning against the wall,
you sat, while the afternoon light
made patterns on your bedroom floor.
oddly formed geometric shapes
that looked broken. pieced together in
patterns that moved with the sway of your curtains.
it captured your imagination
how two seemingly innocuous things tried to fit.
too much fanfare made of trying, tales told of attempts,
of successes glorified in pasts
not your own.
you knew if given the chance,
you could have. just once would have been enough-
to start at least.
loved him that is.
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