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we all want to be
better than we are,
but so few bother
not to be who others see.

gave you the better part of my vaulted heart,
broken in cuz I threw out the key
and trying to be who you need me to be,
and trying to be who we need me to be.

see behind us, sitting on that bench
in the middle of a bright afternoon,
watching the fountain as you
slip to sleep on my shrugged shoulder,
and our fingers find way to be clasped
as they ought to be, as they always are,
and your breathing grows & slows,
like it does when you’re satisfied;
I shake my gaze from your figure,
reminiscing of the trips, and I miss
you even though you’re right there,
mostly because I know life is short,
though we’re in 2049 and can’t seem
to give up on being us just yet.

I like to think of Candi and I on this park bench, surrounded by the animated youngsters so inclined to visit, with our grey hair, and my billed cap, and we’re sitting, content, happy by virtue of having no stress, and just thinking about everything up to that point. that’s how I want to live my life: to get to that spot in time, old enough to know what we had and young enough to appreciate what we still have. every stupid decision I make is only stupid if it keeps us from that.

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musings & scribbles