Over my shoulder

I don't like this talk of love.
It haunts as a shawl is for it's nightlife.

I don't always agree with light outside 

In the day time however much

The air clears my lungs of the dust

There that's built up.

Otherwise for a great part

I'm up and about 

Though something is looking over my

   shoulder.

My mind doesn't always clear 

Of the fear one day I might fall in love.

It unwinds backwards as the web

Of a spider. I'm clearly not ready enough,

Or am unable.

Sorry I study this heart.