Always Here
for you my love. I said
that last humid afternoon. The
melt of love dripped,
refused to release
into rivers, steamy and
loud. The birðs
squacked
inside the black
cage,
as if they were prepared.
Love never lasts
in my yellow
world.
It is always in Shakespeare
that tomorrow
accompanies
the winding down of
a love affair.
True north
is
Rarely ever
True
Caroline Shank
April 30, 2025