we’ll look back on this and say
it was apparent from the beginning, reframing perspective
but believe me I
know nothing of myself.
Bitterly afraid of choice,
we laugh at nonchalance –
always that sweet sorrow:
is this the last time? will I lose you
by accident, you slip away into a snowbank,
fall back, eyes glazed, swiftly buried
and I forget again
not because I don’t love you,
but because I cannot hold this hurt.