plateau

on that plateau, 

i stared, and stared, at a life that could have been

mine

a wine cellar, refurbished sofa, a picture, a heart, a girl,

a spice rack, a bone crack or two, 

a skirt, a house, a job, a boy

you wondered, does the boy know what it felt like?

a hip, a hair, a hand, 

skin tender, bone soft, 

a womb, in whose mercy a life beats – and stops

but not in her mercy,

never hers.

on a high plateau, the wind is sweeping

when you're a remnant all you can think about was an if

if i was yours

then tell me whose heart am i holding?

not mine,

never mine.