How can it be history,
when the pain leaves me breathless?
Iron past that wrings my lungs
soaked heavy in sorrow
until that mysterious liquid escapes from my eyes.
How can it be past,
when the darkness becomes my shadow?
Harassing smiles and reminding pleasure
that there is no vacancy
How can it be over
when I am covered in those moments?
Microwaving a frozen dinner,
collapsing on the floor with grief
my cat a solitary witness
to this complexity of living.