(after the digital print by Louise Bourgeois)
You spoke too many words
with neither subtlety nor charm
as if you had copied them
from a book of clumsy poetry—
one, just one, said honestly
would have been enough
You praised me for the color of my eyes
the way I danced on a ballerina’s feet
my skin, my ears, even the angle of my nose
and the ripples of my hair—
it would have been better, please,
had you spoken of my mind.
Too eager, too attentive to my every word—
if you had spoken less
I could have loved you more.