Really

Bit by bit, Your scraper shaves
across my soul's windows.
The paper I hid behind
(demure roses, thornless stems, respectable leaves)
grows distressed
and here and there, a hole
lets in the light--I guess--
at least enough to sense the shadows.
I keep hope that soon
You'll breath a real flourishing
behind the glass:
geranium, lemon balm, mint--
though, for now, everything smells
of vinegar.

* * *

This post is linked up with Joy in this Journey's Life: Unmasked.