“And what of it?”

he asked–

what of the moments

you can’t unclasp?

Others hold on

so tight

don’t they?

What is it

about you?

What is it

you seem

to actively do?

 

Fingertips white

knuckled grasp

can’t unclasp

the grip:

I unscrew.

Walk away.

Untie.

Don’t delay.

The thoughts we have

dictate

today.

 

“Could you be happy?”

he turned to me

his eye

half blind

unintentionally

averting mine

‘experience

colors

perception’

in black

on his skin.

 

Could I be happy?

if or when

goals fall short

from the sight

they are in?

 

A sigh from puckered lips:

perhaps,

I believe,

I could

step into

that moment

the future

one day,

perhaps with an absolute

Yes

I could say:

my moments

are filled

with the heart of a man,

of a life

well-adored,

my moments are  filled

with love

love

and nothing more.

 

So, what if I don’t?

I suppose

that will do

since all the fanfare

I need

is deep

within me

and ignited

by you.

 

 

 

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