Today I gave up on writing, love, and Reese’s Pieces, all at the same time;
When wind gives way to stillness and we wonder at our own grime-
That is when we tiptoe to the mirror at the end of the corridor,
Crack its visage with our bare fist and howl for something more.
Will it come? This mythical pink dawn that answers to our voice?
Or will we leave? The beginning and the end- all our own damn choice.
Some of the most beautiful stories hide themselves in silence, for fear that words will twist them,
Some of the ugliest memories hide themselves in daily chatter, in hope that someone listens.
My G-d, when we arrive, limping, at the tender end of winter,
How will we rebuild the parts of all the things that splintered?
I smell the relics of the old fire, what lingers in the thick and acrid smoke,
Coax my mind into laughter, even though we’ve both long forgotten the joke.
This descent- is perhaps nothing more than the simple truth, finally uncloaked-
You were never really there- not when we were whole, and again not when we broke.