You Almost Own Me Poem by Renee Marie

You almost own me.

When I get up, in the middle of the night, I don't look at her!
I've talked with others who feel the same way.

I've written songs and poems about her.
I've studied her essence hoping to synchronize with her aloofness.
I've tried to make peace with her passing.
I've talked with others who remember too.

I've received her and gifted her.
I've fallen backward and even sprung ahead for her.
I've watched her come and go.
I've talked with others who remember too.

I've worn her on my body.
I've carried her in my pocket, tethered by a chain to a saggy belt hoop.
I've had a love-hate relationship with her for over forty years.
I've talked with others who can easily relate.

I've cried for lateness
I've celebrated early arrivals.
I've broken into a full-blown sweat of anticipation.
I've talked with others who share in these exact experiences.

I've listened to her.
I've wound her up.
I've hung her on the wall, set her on the bedside table and the desk.
I've talked with others who have done these things.

I've cleaned her.
I've replaced her.
I've lost and found her.
I've talked with others who have done these things.

I've felt punished and rewarded by her.
What is this thing I love and admonish?
What is this thing that we're always running out of or away from?
How can I fully embrace her presence?
Can I buy more of this certain uncertainty?

©️Reneé Marie
4/6/18