Imprinted Poem by Michael Timothy Rose

I hate the way
That I’m imprinted,

Different; the way that-

You’ve changed me.

You’ve written upon me like a script,
And nothing was intentional

But for the bright blare
Which you left sounding through my soul

Before you left, too,
Like a miscreant cat in the night.

And I always wanted
For you to scamper back to me

Like a child.

But rude awakenings happen everyday,
And I am changed,
But I am not so happy.

I feel as though
I am still that child
Waiting in the night
And in the lamplight
Of a lonely midnight doorstep.