to love? we always thought that would be the hard part:
finding someone that could find something in this mess we call a heart.
finding someone who could show us something in theirs, something worth holding, something worth leaving for.
as with most things it seems like a blink in the grand scheme.
the grand scheme… like some chess player is sitting above rubbing his hands together, watching the clock with one eye, planning three moves ahead.
and I’m stuck (as always) on the move behind, wondering if it was right, trying not to let the memories of the things I could have done instead slip away.
I never wanted to be the kind that built my walls out of the faint shimmers of their continuing possibility,
but here I am in the garden anyway, drinking in my lawn chair in the overlapping spaces, wondering (as always) what’s moving behind the windows.
and you sleep beside me through it all, brow furrowed, knees drawn up in defense;
as if you could taste the timbre of my fickle memories.