of all the things that go on living.
I rise and fall to the challenge.
Spending hours in the waves, swimming
filling the rooms with such dark light.
Crested white, murky-ink under moonlight.
Climbing the walls, finding release in every crack.
I'm trying to find the names from where they came
And this--
familiar thing to study
She stares at me from across the mirror.
Wet eyes, soft curves, unkempt hair.
I allow myself to love her.
It's not subtle, not a tiptoe in,
not a gentle tapping at the door.
Without distraction, the body goes on remembering.
I don't miss it much-- the before.
But I think of the time when the days had needs
more pressing than my own.
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