dry--poem

You don’t give a damn-
not sure if I did either, but
what’s certain is this:
I wanted what I remembered of
how you felt.

We barely knew the simple but
critical things.
I can recall how you kiss but
your favourite song, colour, story-
remains a blur.

I’ve been walking through life,
with my back to the wall,
my head turned to watch the past and
hope-
but now I’m facing
tomorrow head-on, curious
to hear what steps fall behind me.

The burning question, kindling
my consciousness, is whether I’ll encounter
a following or if
my sights will pull me forward,
donning me Pursuer.

Fatigue of the mind, body, and
Passion,
summons temporary apathy
within me.
All I have in this moment of
acceptance is the drive to
move on with
the clichés of yesterday,
mistakes from the Night, and
the ability to face
the burning desert of
a New Day.