Pre-Spring

It’s textured grey
not endless
despite how it feels

We lost track of the sun
in each other
the one consultable clock
blinking midnight
blinking noon

You smiled
when I told you
the power had gone out
smiled as you watched me
pull the plug
and in afterthought
pop it back in

A matter of time
till the clouds move on
happily not today

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A Folder Named

Love was easy with distance
when words were all you were
save the odd emoticon
we’d both playfully recoil from
loathe as we were
to find such easy smiles

It’s what I remember
as I forget
that makes me return
a catalog of letters made modern
instant messages rewarmed
with the obvious unsaid

I half-hope you’ve kept them
half-hope they’ve been destroyed
that you’re happy without
that brief exchange
an unintentional immortalizing
left solely to me