one last month together, she
felt guilty for her feelings, so
in some odd way, she tried to
make it up to me
i was selfish, so i
took her up on her assuagement,
too her up on empty bits of
what was closeness
the hardest thing in life
is knowing what you do
just may not matter;
what you do is not enough
when it can’t be
enough
so we were very intimate
right up until the day
i helped her move,
one last unveiling of
the foolishness
that makes up
what we do
