You will never write me.
You will never call.
You will never inquire about my day.
You will believe my heart will never fall.
Your words will be made
Of incendiary copiers
Of toddler’s glue
To tell hundreds of others
They never were
Without online reminders,
I will be another passing celebration.
Another misunderstood gasp of amnesia
Reaching out with curdled arms
Amongst plucked yesterdays
Where were you in the weeks of our passing lull?
Did you crawl towards remedial rest stop
As you pleasured tomorrow’s misguided wish
It was never guaranteed
But, you knew that.
Just like admiration,
Yet, never expecting its counterpart
To be awoken from fantasy’s French kiss
I hold the bliss of hopeful awakenings
From this familiar rooftop
That you will know what it really means
What it really means
To become what you have forgotten
A solicited facade of bonded breaths
Ready to fall
©Drake J. Eszes