Lover, time has done some damage.

I keep checking my skin for cracks,

Flipping through journals, separating acts,

Picking pieces to weave into a bandage.

I’ve taken classes in writing stories,

Searched my mind for inspiration,

My past for characters and sensations,

Found myself several filled inventories.

And we can fit ourselves in some of them,

The half-pained, half-seen smiles,

Apologies that can stretch for miles,

We hid intentions like frowned upon sins.

I’ve watched as the flower of our love began to cry,

And all around her, the grass would bow

Like penitent singers, asking how

Such a beautiful thing could learn to die.

So let’s unlearn it all and start from scratch,

Forgive the other their grand mistakes —

An easy thing to say with such great stakes.

Perhaps find a watering can and then the whispers of Spring attempt to catch.