A Set of Minor Notes

I wish you were sure;
in life and in love.
But, instead,
decisions are the monsters beneath your bed.
I see your glossed eyes and emptied glasses.
I see the paced steps and late dreams.
I see the films stills,
but it is all just scribbles.
You here, you there, hands in hair,
stretching, music adjustment, fire stoking, photo nostalgia…
Flip the pages, faster and faster…
Where are you?
Nude descending the staircase,
you are an energy of minor notes thumping on and on.
I am here,
playing the wicked game
and you look past me.
I am here to help
and your gnarled fingers push me away and away.