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I failed to celebrate the best years of my life.
It only occured to me well after I was over the better part.
That awkward turn of being closer to thirty than thirteen.
And I still find myself
incapable
or perhaps unwilling to...
to think that I'm just one loaded chamber from being a solution.
A snippet in your paper.
An awkward farewell.
Why should going out be anything new?
Awkward childhood, adolescence, courtship, friendship, ambivalence
and now adulthood.
I never think about what I'd leave behind.
Except the burden.
I never get the resolve to say "this will be my last sunrise"
"last smirk"
"last headache"
"last tangerine"
And that's all it is.
Nerve.
If not cheek.
I just don't feel like running the race any more.
I never intended to win.
I never thought to place.
So why finish?
No satisfactory answers...
was I asking the wrong question, or was the problem more elementary?
