Something (adam fieled)

yet we're stuck on each other,
"somehow." or, your picture on
my wall (the clothes, the deep
looks, how adorable) signifies
an ambiguity inherent in

love's prosody. anyway, this
in meant only to be a torn
anemone sent up along
ocean currents to your
door, a way of saying

you're in me "somewhere."
if that's regressive, so be
it, but let no silly man
accuse me of "quietude"-
this longing is loud indeed.