Musings from the October widow

the October widow bemoans
were you not told
why must you stand unarmed
is it me who does not understand you
or you who neglects to infer with me
i believe its all perception
but then again i believed karma too
i was told everything has a grey allotment
my morals are pristine white
my past is pseudo-black
and my thoughts alone
silver-area'd
mapped in my brain
and i offer you now
a sliver
my eyes are a suspect brown forthwith
forgive me my mind lover
yesterday makes me question
today i wished for cows hide
but before i can grow it on
you chide
i see you now
appearance
toned and swelled
both your brains at once
and perhaps
its me
i prep you for the next
i see you off
while i cocoon on