you are wearing what I know you would 
only the Autumn you don
less Autumn, 
and your happiness somewhat 
less happy.
The red in your red is a degree faded
from the platform I stand on called now. 
You are living it up to your reputation 
by remaining in an unreachable distance 
picking up odd ends of circumstance 
on your way to me. 
There is a blind gap between us 
I can only see the you I created,
out of the fabrics of hope. 
The space, that divides us
 is an invisible changing room 
you slyph through
 so that finally 
when you are here 
standing smack in front of me 
I do not recognize who you are. 
 
So I am forced
to give you a name, 
like miracle or accident 
or tragedy.

05/28/2015

Posted on 05/28/2015
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