Thank you
for showing
me the truth
when I least
asked for it,
now my words
that bespoke
my love will
at last cease
from existence:
at long last
the toiling
is finished,
I will let you
go and accept—
the moon and
the sun are
better off
as distant
friends
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
