Fibers

I knew our story before ever stepping foot
youmeyouandmeyouyoumewe. you.me
that was the then before the now
cause we, I, knew then where we'd be now
here.
this place of two history streets
i create the he and you continually find a new she
A she for this, A she who can do that
as trivial and trite as my last few petty poetic rhythms and rhymes
cause this damn damned (see that, I really cursed this time)
story of two people is neither new nor unique
for it's of an age with the pharaohs
and more numerous then the whores of a sheik
just as tiresome as the rantings of--well me--about you
because I can count in years my darling dove
YEARS
how long I have had something to say about you.

what would that be, pray tell?
Well!

well.

I that would seem to be
precisely that it just may be
as long as I live I will carry you with me
imagined/real slights and all

because

the fibers of my left arm connect to the one dangling from under your right
we are cut from the same cloth and parts of me long to be stitched back together
though I recognize I've been made into a lovely two piece jacket/skirt ensemble
(have you checked out my covered button holes!)
while you are a fine three piece suit and women's wear and mens wear are not one in the same
no matter how hard I try
they are not, will not, nor will ever be the same
my drape hangs fluttery off a cure
your cut is so sharply clean.
a curved sharp does not exist.