Out of Myself

If two cannot be one
I’ll meet the day
as nighttime. You’ll
shine while I take
my leave. Wave to me
as I pass by completely.
While you sleep I’m out
on the town drinking of
ink and mad at myself.

Weighed by love, I’ll
never catch up. You do
the growing of what
everyone needs, raise the
crops. I’ll host Angels
in their caves who cannot
recall what the fell to do.

We’ll meet on horizons, your
lipstick a blush, my eyelash
a hint of blue. You will
rise to read what I write
all night for you. On
and on, the longing my
hand sweeps from my cheek.

I’m over the moon. The
stars. Done with the poem
of hope. The belief that
something that hasn’t
changed can change. We’ve been
separate in all but thought,
and a dawn we keep memories of.

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