I Will Always Be Her Lover Poem by Chris Zachariou

I live inside her twisted mind.
There was no choice. She left the door
ajar and casually asked me to come in—
youth can be so careless these days.

At night, listening to the lullabies
of a lovelorn owl, we watch the moonrise
in the waters of the river past her door.
First-time riffs, trip on the wings of ravens
counting the banjos in the Poplar Valley.

I consume her thoughts relentlessly.
In vain, she shrieks and curses me to leave her
but we both know I'm an obsessive songsmith
with an agenda:

I want to tune that off-key flute
she's been hiding inside her bedroom
since the day she turned sixteen—she
knows I'm her only lover, and I will not
abide by her kind of angry music.