what I really want to write
are the poems I didn’t write
the poems that I read
deep and profound
what I really want to see
are the things I never see
feelings lost to me
what I really want to write
are the words I didn’t  know
that
I  didn’t know
what I really want to write
are the things
I suspect I may
never know
but I really want to write them
anyhow

can I let every little thing
that makes me me
flow out of me
naturally  
or do
I have to check myself in at the door?

our love
which was once
an event
a waterfall
a crescendo
splendid enough that
people would queue
for hours
just to to see it
I get it
I would queue too
to see
our love
our love
is now just
a trickle
that no one
is interested enough
to get out of bed for
it’s just not
that special
anymore
in all honesty
it’s just not that interesting
to anyone
not even to
to you and me
anymore

Autumn
is closing in now
have you seen the leaves ?
the sun is lower now
do you feel relief?

I loved you
yesterday
or at least
I tried
but you were you
yesterday
or at least
you tried

I live
with the person
I aspire to
be

I have no plan
neither do you
at our age
everyone has a plan
it’s  the least we can do
to prove
it was worth
the laughter and the pain
and yet
we have no plan
what’s going on
tricky to explain
for god’s  sake
someone
anyone
make a ****** plan!