Under your microscope, what had you hoped to find?
Dividing and dividing until you had it.
Slicing and slicing until my heart was offal.
A boy collecting eggs,
To study the bulbous eyed chick
Unhatched. A sickly, grey, old mans pallor
And tufts of white feather
Never turned yellow.
How cool you always were,
Your gaze resting on the left side of my forehead,
Your imagination
You were trying too see in.
As if what was contained there
Would yield an answer to
Your inquisition.
It was not this that i needed,
Only your love. Only your love.
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