Thirty going on

It’s only tragic
if we take away time
for now
appended to heartbreak

I gave up
casually as I could
better than the last time
looking back

A late January notion
of nothing much
before weeks
have bled to months

Alone
until I’m not
dead
going on alive

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Before We Wake

Your attempts to measure
have made a mess
forgivable
but only by that
which was questioned

It’s an impetus
I know
a desire for tomorrows
forsaking todays

I’ll love you
as long as I’m able
as long as that’s enough

Scintilla

I don’t know what the word is
but I’ll find it
for you

Idle promise
made much of
when we were made of much less

I was in a book
remembering
waiting for you to walk in
not that you would
not that it was in your capacity
to do anything but arrive
awash in a world
dragged dutifully to doorstep

With enough years between us
I could find that smile
in each passing page
a reminder of late sunshine
goading me to get up
holding aloft
those dust motes
dancing as we must