melted

commenting on poetic justice

i worry sometimes about my future

where i am, where i will be

if it even matters

yet here, in this present, i am

neither happy nor sad

for he is not in this world, within here

they are not in this world either

but you, you are here and not there

and so i write my poetry

the tap of an invisible keyboard, a melody

and i am alone without them

yet together, with you

and i belong in this moment

we belong in this moment

it is our salvation, perhaps

we are slaves to this moment

and this moment alone, in time

will be forgotten

but you will not be

i write my poetry

atop a couch i call home

and wait for notifications

that tell me that i belong

here, with you, in this moment

and i believe

it is not the future i am worried about

for with the winds of fate at my back

i am free.