i penciled my words down and then, you painted them black

i have checked this basket
and none of the fruits have anger
written on them.

a battle in me to stay within
the confines of love
where what is outside spells
mAlice

i have come to write off
that which i spent my days on.
today i pull the plug on
ones and zeroes,  on
bytes and bits,
on firewalls,those walls of fire,
on letters and binary
on phone calls and wires
and then this internet i admired

real relationships are made by blood
and true ones are led by the spirit

if my God wrote once that
that which is unseen is permanent
and that which is seen, temporary,
there may have been exceptions

sometimes what i don’t see
comes to me from behind
using my own words
in very different ways

i lay each night knowing that
man, one who lays beside me
will tomorrow stand against me
first, rubbing my back to a massage,
then biting it to excruciating pain.

i lay each night with the surety
of a promise, that with the night
comes the morning in immediate succession

but how do i lay with two eyes shut
when i don’t know where my shadow
goes when i sleep?

that’s why shadows are black
and the spirit unseen.