I reserve my energy for creating
in the flesh
in stains of ink representing
that moment that would have
otherwise dissolved like a sugar cube
under the steady drip of your antique faucet,
homemade absinthe fountain
I reserve my energy to restore
those moments,
tinged with the pain of our aborted love,
of the deep root
that lost ground and life
when the waters of our innocence
flowed down and away from us,
together,
pulled us,
into safe havens neither you nor I
could claim to be for each other
I reserve my energy for the mornings,
once cold in your bed of regret
now mine and love's again
I reserve my voice to speak love into the phones
of all my beloveds, friends, sisters
made light again by my seeing,
you made heavy by some perceived expectations,
yes,
I did want,
yes,
you did take,
yes your giving,
like a slow drip,
not more,
did serve to give you more,
as I'd turn it into an oceanic wave of hope,
fueling your pleasure
one hundred fold.
well, aren't you resourceful
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