Black and White
You are nothing that you should be;
As you sit there looking at me,
Tapping your pen
Against your thin framed glasses.
Your long hair so impossibly white,
Like silk it flows smoothly behind you;
Trailing a long river down your back.
Hard muscles beneath your soft velvet shirt
And strong working hands,
Well used to the point of callous.
Yet they are gentle and careful.
Easy precise strokes to create
Delicate lines and ripples on the page.
The drawing of another tattoo;
A mirror to the rose you already wear.
A woman’s tattoo on a man’s back;
Low and cradled just above
The waist band of your white jeans.
Dark haunted eyes looking up at me;
Filled with over flowing thought.
Your eyes so loving…
Now teemed with angry hate.
I can offer nothing to comfort you,
As you struggle;
Gazing deep into your divide.
So much broken and scattered…
Black and white pieces,
Can no longer blend to grey…