a moment

A voice that is a raspy as the ages of time sanding down the rough edges-

Of Jasper Johns new work, of a man setting on the edge of a bed, explored over and over again,trying to understand the impulse of life,of living.

Avoiding the end of ones time, avoiding the face of death, while it stares back at you in the mirror. It is not the reflection one sees but the smirk of time walking away leaving dust.

The realization that the longing one has is for the things never  expressed in the past, and now its too late.

The wound healed over some time ago. The scar remains a reminder of loss and feelings un-felt, even the words don’t suffice any longer.

Only distorted memories of risks not taken.

Then, wishing to stare at the setting sun until the rays burned away my ability to see any residue of a life spent.

I was at a loss today to express my love for you.


You sat there at the other end of the country, facing a screen you couldn’t see, and there I was trying to make small talk that could never even get close to putting a dent in the veneer of time, built up day by day.  Here I am so many years later clawing away, trying to get at you, so I could get at me.

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