I spent a lot of years flirting
with my expiration date.
It makes sense—to be wooed
by the finish line of sadness.
Infinity sends me nudes
every day. I won’t deny
she looks amazing, but I’m taken.
My hand now promised
to writing every page of my story
except for its end.
Maybe, just maybe, the seeds of compassion, patience and understanding we have been forced to learn this year will bloom in us bright enough to make the ache worth it. Even the possibility is worth the try.
If only shame
could wash us clean,
but that is never
how healing works.
Nobody ever won
anything from thinking
the whole world was
out of their league.