Changes will
continue, but I’ll never give in to
the woman that
you’ve assumed me to be.
Thought that I had
seen you,
Could feel me
beneath you,
Beneath a distant
longing
to arrive.
There’ll be no
more waiting,
No sorrowful
blaming.
I’m sitting right
where I’ve wanted to be.
I am and I am not
these petals
pressed into
these pages
unnumbered.
I am and I am not.
But then I
remember.
And when I
remember,
It seems that I
become more of what I remember.
Which is not
necessarily insanely related
or jaded or
tainted by bleak memory.
In fact I’m
enjoying
the lifting of
morning,
These petals
intended for giving release.
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