the door is still ajar and there is still a lamp lit
and hue spills out in a straight line
where I follow markings on the
sides of highways to forget
how I won't forget the impression
you leave on the sidewalk through
season after passage of next to
brightlit stripmalls somewhere
with snowcapped mountains
and lakes and lakes and lakes away know
I'll probably miss you

when streetlights burn down
when stoplights wear out
I'll be out on the ocean
you'll find me in
hillsides on
indian summer mornings
or in
rain flecks on train windows
winding trails around
provinces I'll
never figure out how to pronounce
you won't miss me

I was never
going to be
enough for you
because I'm not
strong and I'm
not as smart as
you used to tell
me, and you
were so smart-
god were you
brilliant- but you
always used these
drugged-up phrases
and I never kept
your pace at any
point. So why did
we keep trying
when we didn't
get each other and
our hands didn't
even match right
in the first place?
I let you press
your name all
over my body
but in the end
I just couldn't
figure out how
to put myself
in your lungs.

I have a list
of people I
cannot go to
when my heart
is collapsing
and I hate that
you've put
yourself on it.

I want to do something


B                            I                            G


with my life but I'm
finding it so much
easier to be content
with living small.

I write this with the knowledge that I may never see the sun again.
We are the only creatures on this planet who know they will die someday.

...and yet...

We still persist.
Day after day and night after night.
Working and slaving.
Fight after fight.

Sure.
Sometimes there are few of us who have the advantages in society and the benefits of wealth to make life worth living.
""I've been sky diving, rocky mountain climbing.
I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying."

How much do you have in your bank account?
I am cynical.
I know this.
You don't need to tell me that.

But sometimes there are people who, with all of this knowledge, press on and do it for the thrill of the battle.
Some live just because they want to survive.
Some live because they are scared of death.
Some live because they love the feeling of breathing.
Some live because the absence of it confuses them.

Why do I live?

Well.

That is an interesting question.

If I could
go back I
would
fall for you
instead of
wasting my
time on
another.
You once
told me I
made you
feel safe
and I'm
so sorry
I left you
alone like
that. I
forgot the
sound of your
heartbeat for
just a second
and heard
someone
else's at the
wrong time.
I'm
sorry, I'm
sorry.