this
it was supposed to a letter
it is not.
i was supposed to be a shepherd
and i am not.
the grass was meant to grow for months
and it, too, did not.
the many things which are not and may never be,
they will linger and stab
and i, i will sit here with hands clenched, heart peeled and
lungs shivering in breath
waiting to inhale all of this ecstasy and pain and
you, you will let me
you will have to let me suffer in your stead
in gratitude for
and maybe in spite of this thing
of ours
what am i supposed to do?
this
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