The same love never comes twice

History too holds space in the present

We kiss at a party just as everyone else does but it's as if two people had never touched before

We sit at a local coffee shop and it's like half the people speaking have something to prove, the other half deadly silence

Much like our dead reflections in the newspaper. None of this ever talked about but we know

Nothing is queeer than quiet understanding

Except maybe survival

Still We wake up beside eachother and find I've stolen the blanket again in our uncluttered apartment

This is enough to forget about our existence

For awhile

Nothing is queerer than quiet understanding...

Except  maybe  survival

I know I'll write poems about you long after you're gone

I'll dream about your hands when mine are withered and creased

But I'll hold you while you're here and embrace the time we have

She smelled like dove soap
We both did, hands freshly washed in the bar's crusted sink

Her smile when I asked to kiss her was coy   curling where our lips finally touched

She was beauty and kindness and I couldn't measure up

Time is moving too fast
and
  I am moving too slow