I’d like to say I’ll see you around
but I know it’s the not the truth.
My time is up. Thy divine I trust.
I lay to rest my woeful youth.

I’ve chosen you to follow through
with every single molecule
deliver the final blow
like Apollo Crews.

The hollow truth
will swallow you
like it did your ardent youth.
Though I’m starving too

I was guarding you
from the garden tomb.

I’m sorry darling,
but your youth must bloom.


© Matthew Harlovic