Way past when I thought I’d aged out of mirrors, I’m fool enough to catch my eye. No razor, no toothbrush, just the inverse skin stretched out in bright shining glass. Just the same old witness behind dulled windows. The soul burning softly, dissolving into this stunned hush. This settled silence the only argument left once all the arguing is over. Just this semblance of sadness heaped upon these shoulders’ burden. Another shrugged off ache added to the bill.
There weren’t words enough for how much I wanted you. There aren’t words enough for how much I want you now. I’m not big on change. I’ve always been out here as the time winds up. I’m always waiting to be down for the count. It’s not so surprising, your beauty at the start of the haunt. It’s not surprising, all the want in the world aimed your way. Words spilled on the unswept floor. Words scattered after your gracious wake.
The best days take their shine from your smile. The curve of your lip prettifying every last glimpse. Of all the things to be, imagine me in love. Doom on doom, with a strong oblivious streak. Of all the things to be, imagine your hungry grace descending. These tellings and their back handed kindnesses. These tellings we make into our truths. Our best days long ago eclipsed. Our best selves left to the imagination.
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