Dec
2004
2004
03
Making My Way….
I do not inch my way,
so precariously,
through this life,
I’ve made,
counting days,
feeling years,
older,
seemingly,
untouched,
by vanity,
trust,
and those consequences of youth,
seeking to end,
the tramas,
ended to quickly,
the blood split,
upon the ashes,
of what was once a yesterday.
I do not ask,
than anyone,
be,
what they are not.
And yet,
I am constantly alarmed,
faced with the unthinkable,
of those who try to hard,
to make a place,
a space,
a wanton void,
amassed in facade,
of who they are not.
I fall in love.
Endlessly.
With you.
Shaky,
not here,
suspended in air,
like leaves,
I walk here,
just barely,
breathing.
Life.
