Loosened Couch String

We sat on each side
of the old couch,
arms akimbo, protecting
our hearts, or
something metaphoric.

Judge
and reduce me
to caricature.

But from your lips--
lips that
rouse
libido.

I look not
so much as at
the pattern of the couch,
but through it.
I do this
and see patterns
undulate.

I have to learn
again how
to show you depth.

My eyes focus
on you, and
I play absently
with a string
loosened from an unseen
seam.