waiting for the muse
as an unidentifiable pain
subsides
excuses for inaction
never were as effective
as a well-placed
well thought-out
whine
i click
i share
pretend
the last thing i need
i can’t remember why
i plop
i pine
distract
the only one i want
lest i forget to cry
feeling history’s razor
on the edge
our kindled love
abides
never mind the autumn
we shall find our warmth
in random acts of creation
and survive
——
My Sweetheart will know even more
Blessed…
m(___)m
