Not me, Nor I

I never wanted to hurt you,

Likewise I

Never wanted to stop loving you,

Or telling you so

And now I must do one

To dictate the other 

Life is too short not to say it, indeed,

And life encompasses our life 

Which, by gods, is too short

Though that would always have been true

I cannot hold in that many I love yous,

It's at best unhealthy 

To hold that many breaths,

To swallow that much of my tongue

Maybe this is due penance

Maybe not

But my heart in the corner,

Sleepless and battered,

Knows, has always known,

What to say,

Even with that occasional false correlation

Betwixt the heart and lips

These of mine most of all,

Misrepresenting my best,

Overrepresenting what else there is.


There is you, and me, and all our still promise

Quieter than comfort, hoping and confident

But then again, graves are pretty sure of themselves, too.

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