TO FAIL SO FLAWLESSLY

a joke

I want to cry.
To cry, and cry, and cry.
This isn't what I wanted,
and I know that I can still change it.

But I am unsure of what I want instead.
It bleeds out from other places,
and I am afraid that it's useless.

What exists, between you
and I? I'm laughing at how this,
this moment, might be exactly
what I've been searching for.

Maybe it has been a joke,
From the beginning and how
not every twinkle in the sky
must take form and shape
in meaning for you.
The river runs curved, its
high earth beds a channel,
hidden behind the branches and
the brambles of a world long lost.

Maybe this is a good thing,
something not so desperate
and scarce, like the 8 month drought
of you before you decided to bear
a handful of squished black berries at the eve
of my winter solace.

Maybe it's the space, the
dirt road that maps out
its loneliness through the
dampness in my heart.
The fog is heavy, and for
once, I'm trying not to see.
To feel, to exist, to know
that I do not need to be perfect
in order to attain a new start.