the past gathers time in its reservoir
memory its currency
water-logged, heavy
a sudden undertow pulls me back to thoughts of you
alone though we are
bereft of one another's
once sweet company
reminders linger like old halloween decor
past its due date as December picks up steam
the weeks I work,
to pull my mind free
a body actively serve here and now
but one bad dream
and I'm back missing our scenes
weekends land with a certain thud
how foolish I am to fear
birthing worst-possible scenarios with this unruly
head
I guess I don't trust the God I thought I loved
