your eyes located mine on a latitude
of trust, longtitude of curiosity.
But the truth is your compass never pointed straight back at me-
I was a magnet for misplaced affection,
A changing field. Not (now nor then)
your home point, your north peak.
I am the needle that swings through north
and south and back
again, stitching your name across
the rim of my mouth my
tongue wraps around on nights I
am loath to forget.
You told me “with me around, you’ll never be lost”
In truth, it was in you that I lost.