Rock Paper Scissors

There’s a hardened place

In my head

Solid and rough

Where you reside

A place just porous enough

For me to access

My memories of you

With an inner core

Of deepest feelings

And scenes that replay endlessly

But with jagged edges

That scrape me

Every entry and exit.

This paper

On which I put my words

So they reflect back to me

My thoughts

Is opaque

Like when I looked

Into your eyes

But could not see through

To what you thought.

This sharp instrument

Meant to turn folded paper

Into snowflakes

Can cut cords that bind

Severing the before

From the after

Ending my dangling

Middle ground

Between the us

And the me and you

But leaving me

Crumpled 

In a heap.