It could be
what we’ve been crying for.

It could be
the thumb we use to rule
the world with.

but as it is
failing us now,
it could be the end.

I try to push past my pride -
to see you
as I did when it meant something
to agree on a place,
a time to meet, the clothes,
the conversation,
never
who would pay.

Just innocent fumbling
of words, masking eagerness
to feel you near –
Charcoal fingers
that would eventually
draw us up
in story board
bedrooms,
minus the dog hair,
even though you put up with it -
never said anything
of our plan
to follow you home.
a memento
in the crease of your arm,
by boxes that separate us now,
to remind you
that you were here
with me
and we were once
so capable.

alone
at my desk,
I look off and
Smile.
Sighfullrelease
of the happiness -

It could be still.

02/24/2009

Posted on 02/24/2009
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