Her moods pour me into
Molds I can’t conform to.
I was not born with the
Elasticity of a rubber band -
The painful snap backs
Of uncertain mentality.

Medical science provides a designation
Reminiscent of a frozen wasteland,
Buries it beneath iridescent hues,
Waxes the tongue until it becomes smooth
As the eyes that stare blankly into mine.

I sleep at night and try to dream
Of just one day when the swing
Stands still and does not sway.