I already bleed
Afraid of missing the grace
The gentle love who fought a peaceful silent war.
Callused and earth grown,
Breathed the old dust onto me
That I drag around
And disperse into endless black water.
And suppose when I go I’ll be as dusty as she.
With utility proven and shorn
from every history.
Replaced by
words on a page,
That really have no use.
And wonder constantly,
Silently,
Even to yourself,
Why did I let it slip away?
Unshared Everything 