Intimacy is akin to quicksand-
Can swallow before you realize where you stand;
One warning in an annoyed frown, two couched in deep, velvet silence.
Slithery and shining as a snake coiled for strike.
Walking on tip toes, as you evade the danger,
It slips by the window of yet another uncomfortable compromise.
Intimacy is a word puzzle-
“In” is marked, the “maze” is hinted at.
Being neither good at hunting snakes
Or evading sand blasts of disapproval
Stumbling in between unsaid mazes, word games
I turned round and stared at
I N T I M A C Y
I made out a MY and a lot of I
An ACT , a TIC, a MAN
An innocuous looking AIM
Why it evaded being a MATE by a simple accepting of E
Why it was never a whole TEAM, suffocating the life out of E
Why it was actually a vicious MAIM missing the killing of an M
Why it laughed at TACT by pointing at an always plain, lacking T
Why it wanted to TAME , caging one who escaped merely by the E
How it contained CAN and CANT,
Missing just a mark of denial, upended
Somewhere in between…