My conscience frowned.
She had given a nod to the thoughts passing through
But the ones I picked were never the ones she gestured toward.
But my feelings!
I’d exclaim.
Arms crossed, her glare made clear her thoughts.
Are you a Magician?
She’d reply.
Have these feelings been pulled out of a hat and handed to you like a child?
Have not you always had them?
But my extended wear
Has not made them fit any neater.
Like a pair of trousers that are too big in the morning
But too tight after a meal,
There is only a small window of time that they lay against my skin
Without me wanting to take them off.














