I wish that we could stop
talking. stop puzzling
with anger. stop gripping
at what we cannot gently love.
let it go.
(don't wonder if we weren't worth it.
of course we were
perpetual indecisions, it seems
I still get lost, so easy
every destination after us is a moving target,
I arrive always
to find that's not where I want to be.)
for what it's worth, we were fiery,
we burned ourselves to the ground,
and grew
new loves. the old ones are
fecund scars of the earth.
but that's all. there is nothing
to go back, nothing to redo. my silence
is not your punishment, it is
what I am, that's all.
