Again I break my heart.
Again I spill
ash on my wrists.
A lover leaves. The leaves arrive.
Everything is early, even when long
overdue. I must pay my dues.
My head clears slightly, I open
the maps. I read every language.
I learn new things. I learn that
I failed at everything I did not
know. I failed again.
I want to go to the mountains.
Somewhere with a small river.
If I could go with my mother
and my friend, I would say
what I feel
and they would hear.
Everything might be easy.
Eventually we might
have to say no words
at all. River silence.
For now, everything fails.
Which is to say
we get to try again.
I get to try again.
The words feel flabby,
all stretchy skin and no insides.
Still I say them, six hours down.
Overdue, but I arrive. Here I am,
still writing. Here I am, loving,
even if wrong. Here I am, all
failed and flabby, all hurt skin,
all the same words each time.
Will something break?
Will something grow here?
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