Ours: to never learn the beginning of it all, keeping you alone; almost-overheard voices that had gone
as far as they could go were ready to return, waiting for the call sooner than they'd know, missing by a
night.
Did you hear it in the wind?
I couldn't make it down, cloudy, in the lights fading out.
And, folded in a letter that I found, remembered just in time: forgetting to forgive never turning back
around, stretching at the seams, pulling back the hood, forever, as a gaze you didn't really mean,
stricken as we stood broken, as we made time for make-believe, stealing, when we should, what we
couldn't give away.