Patterns

Patterns

You steal the thoughts from my head
Each night you crawl into my bed.
Uninvited.

You turn each thought into a word
That resembles something I could’ve inferred.
Unbidden.

You weave them into a net so fine
Tomorrow you tell me they are all mine.
Patterns.

I listen perplexed
As if I’ve been hexed.
By something I used to believe.

You have me confused
Battered and bruised.
And then conveniently leave.

~ Romana Mayakov