Poem 60

i’m sorry i never write about you, S, but this is why
…more substance.
I regret
that nothing
comes across
quite like arms
around an epiphany.
I worry
that poetry
cannot capture
these intricacies
of twinkling reality.
Our names
etched starward
smudged out with
the palm of broad
cosmic hands.
put me in a box
in the back of your
closet; wear me on your
shoulders and tell
no one.
This is the less than
fairytale ending we
reinforced with whispers.
I regret nothing–
I only wish there had been…

2 thoughts on “Poem 60

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