Evermore Alone Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

I cannot forgive the light
Its translucent sketches
Its probing oil on water balancing act
Its full embodiment of your skin
Its penetrative gaze
On a body that should only pose for me

Its molestation is no accident, like a ladies' hose laddered on purpose
Torn and stretched in its talons
Squirming like a fervent tornado, almost directionless

I too devour you like a blackbird
Full of morning songs
But by the evening
At winter's close I am perched
Evermore hungry, evermore alone