I’ve tried to discover secrets
But I am not tall enough to swim
In some parts of my heart
And the universe is under construction
But they won’t say when it opens
And the most radical things I have found
That I can possibly say to you are:

I love you, I’m sorry, I’m trying.

A mantra, a chant, a benediction?
Definitions are only important for the dictionary
Tomorrow checks out of the library,
Because the Present cannot read
So it does not care for words written
On spongy walls in the dead of night.
The present cares about the decorations
Of space called actions and whether
They match the aesthetic
And I don’t know if mine do but:

I love you, I’m sorry, I’m trying

If you hear echoes and they are the same hue
As you knew me to be, and you wonder
If they are shockwaves from the time
I jumped headfirst into the shallow end
Of a sunny day trying to find words
That would mean something to you,
I hope they have not been distorted beyond
The ability to make out
My heart desperately beating in its staccato:

I love you, I’m sorry, I’m trying

Because I am weak
I am small
I am struggling
And many days
I am dying,
But
I love you,
I’m sorry,
And I’m trying.