Philautia

Tell me of the wealth you lost;
speak about it in my ears

in a tone you wouldn’t with
the world, say your words

uninhibitedly, show of your hands –
toughened palms;

of the sword you wielded,
in my mind I will revel

you like a king acquired a throne,
keep running away

to new places just when I assimilate
your presence at one;

I am not as swift as you in moving,
my sense of absence is like an ant

caught inside a sugar cube,
put me under a tap

to get me to loosen my cling,
I’ll still linger in the puddle

to re-combine the thinning
sweetness;

your way isn’t reduction
and mine none acquiescing