perhaps it is because
i hold no place in his daily life
in no way requisite
my long dark hair
his lack thereof
he says i give him goosebumps
he wants to buy me shoes
even though he knows i don’t need another pair
so
i will think of him each time i wear them
acceptance offered by warm bosom
sweet breathed mother sighs
his face nestled into my pale pink sweater
where tears wet dark skin
the allure of the old country
in the last season of life
i am nothing
but someone
he lost
so he brings me fruit too beautiful to eat