for each of you - and I
together, or forever apart
there is no going back
to our very memory
made up
unfinished and strewn,
these old poems
why am I even
so terribly, terribly
in love with old time
events that never took place
places that never were
the conundrum that,
endlessly used to be
diving right in,
or waiting it out
all the wrong times
throwing reciprocation
to the wind
and the right ones,
hesitating far too long
a lifetime’s worth
charades.
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