15 April, 2017

Can We Admit

Glass is meant to be the same
every time it's seen
Illusion of protection

Can we still write those poems,
between breaths,
Inches separating histories

Can we still write the poems
about not knowing
why we ever loved them

What do we do
when all of us are lost
at the same time

Can I just admit
I don't know
if there is honor
in remorse

And that I don't want you
to keep paying me
just to charge me when I die

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