I watched them gather around her, Stonehenge in twilight before the tourists, signs, and gates 20 feet away. She’s a goddess, dropping love bombs. I wish, I wish, mommy why don’t you want me? If I appropriate Aphrodite, slather on your Cancer, drape my shapeless body in your cheap cologne, would you cover me?
I stay up all night to stitch a blanket from scrap yarn, pretending the stars are my friends, my only friends. They glare with universal oblivion, catch them when I can.
Alone on a slab while the instruments of ego and torture dissect my every move during the 7th inning stretch. I am utterly alone in this echo chamber, that you claim is your own.
But I have been sitting here for centuries. I am, your naked cast-off, waiting for the shield that will never come.