One eye turns away

It’s never as easy as one hopes,
but nor is it as difficult.
Stains of several shades
writhe and breathe
upon the fabric of today.
Shyly, one eye turns away.
All hope is lost, or moot.
I’m still recovering
from the last meet-cute,
according to the latest reports.
Not that I want to be taken
seriously of course.
In whose favor have I fallen anyway?
One too many variables nestle
in the spaces between seconds.
Override me already.

-r. miller

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