poetry's unrelated offense

You linked 
me a link.
It was definitely
you. 
Not a hijacked
account
spam ops false share. It was you 

and I clicked. In trust. And
it
was
a
poem. 
Which

I think you wrote

and I read, assuming as much but 
it was nothing about me, or us, or
anything we'd discussed, or nature, 
or art, or science, 

or sex. It was 

totally unrelated 

and unpleasant! It made
an uncomfortable, awkward 
effect wriggle and relax
inside, in a minor disgusting
way - not innate. The poem

itself? OK. If I'd found it

without your help, I'd have loved it
at least a bit. But 

because I could not tell what
you wanted at all,
for me to take,
the whole thing 
reeled. Stringless and taut 
in awkward feel. Loose, 

no, loosed - no.

Just loose.

I am a fish unmoored,
in your poem sea. Unyanked, 

unswung by line
or hook, there was no opportunity
to wriggle free, no choice to surrender
inevitably, I was so

uncaught 

in the moment. I swam and 

swum 

and I wish 
- not quite that you'd linked someone 
else - not quite 

but I wish you had not linked me. Or 
as if you must, I suppose - I wish 

you had not left me quite 
so free. 

Also the rhyme scheme 
was incoherent 
kinda