- Sam Rivera
love you say, love
when the book club, bridge club, coffee clutch comes.
when you need to impress strangers on the street.
“Oh how I love the china doll my husband gifted to me,”
but you’re as indifferent as could be.
keeping a dusty white sheet from my head to my feet.
when my unblinking, big brown doe eyes, beg you to come play;
not until i need you, you silently say.
you won’t even give me the comfort of your voice…
you won’t tell me, not today.
so on the shelf i sit
sit down down down.
wearing your neglect as a dress.
wear it covering my porcelain chest.
though i don’t get played with
i never feel at rest.