Untitled

Something that seems
to consistently fail.
Making up
For lost time.
It never works
Not past, nor present
Your presence exudes
more than your
past self ever could.
And for that we must
Fortify ourselves
in this present moment,
before your anxiety
Inevitably becomes regret.

Supersede

Does tragedy supersede
your right to happiness?
Feathered tears land
quietly along a page
and all I can focus on
are the smudges. The
tiny imperceptible, imperfections
that curate insight.
I can feel the weight.
Your burdens borne upon
your face, valleys and rivers
of flesh betrayed by
the simplest fears
Yet, you smile still.

Floorboards

Crack my collarbones like
the floorboards underfoot.
I don’t dally under the weight
of what you’ve thrust upon me.
I willingly accepted
Everything that you are,
that cannot be understated
Here I sit under you,
I’d call myself Atlas
but that’s too heavy-handed