Draw me up a list of pros and cons
for each moment of this
confounding, writhing existence.

I miss you! I say
I'm right here, you say.
And you are; pounding a hollow in my heart.

My experience is so foreign to you, with
so many of your silences in between
that I am lonely
without our common thread,
consumed with daily dread.

We broke every egg to build a life, so
why can't we clear away
the construction site?
As we work, some invisible poison - always new -
will creep in to soil my view
as the vista greys out to bleak.

The work of rubble clearing stops,
and meanwhile, I concoct
multiple versions of the words you do not speak,
of the stories you do not tell.

I acknowledge the weight of a hundred
years of anger, but
the only thing that brings peace
is the scent of us together.

Since the hourglass threatens,
I tell you this again,
begging you to hear it better:

I can only do so much to combat
my hardwired demons, but

*all it takes to clear the way is to
part my thighs and hear me sigh -
sit with me as the smoke rings rise
and pink and orange fill the sky.