when will history stop being
the lure i use to reel you in?
when comes the time when the line
sags and shreds, too worn to replace,
when it snaps the moment you meet
a woman more comfortable bouncing her
voice against the walls of a room than i,
i will try to remember the lengths.
the lengths we go to keep alive
the antiquated notions of what we knew
love to be, how we seek to replicate it,
coerce it into corners without the intention
of ever letting it out, and how it cries.
how love cries when we force it to be
what it was instead of what it is meant
to be, all because we are too afraid to
forget, too afraid to become acquainted with
the quiet moment before a miracle, the
rapture of reassurance after God gets
the chance to whisper i have more in store
if you wouldn't mind making room.