"there is a time and place for everything"
its what we used to tell her, try to teach her
I wonder today if shes finally caught on
"only you can fuck you like you"
the realest bit of encouragement I could muster that night
the supposed beginning of new beginnings
though it seemed to bring with it only more confusion and more tears
more than I knew as time moves through the year
abruptly, succintly, almost insentively "it's alright"
was the best he could give her tear-soaked face and sniffling nose
the failed attempt at hiding disappoinment
sadness, the self-deprecating thought that shed let him down yet again
reality has no place for intention, no cute little cubby to store its
child-proof scissors that slice through construction paper hopes or
washable markers whose tips stain 50/50 cotton/poly dreams
not to say that giving it the good 'ol college try isnt worth it
hell, youll never win the lottery if you dont buy a ticket but
the road to hell is beautifully and wonderfully paved in them apparently
wherever that is
there's no way to know if it got through
no way to tell if it actually helped
no proof of how loudly youve been heard or felt
no quantitfiable data available to show how deep youve touched or been received
all you can possibly conceive is what you meant to convey
what you were feeling when you tried
the impact you attempted to provoke
none of which matters much in the end
so at the end
of the day
whats real?
the world seems so much more real when its cold
when your heart is cold or broken or feeling alone
when even your breath is thick and cloudy in the air
soul quivering like the tips of ears and fingers just before lost feeling
a great dispair overtaking and leaving all bereft
loss of family and friends, relationships that end
through death, distance,
denial and disownership
calm, quiet, painful, solitary time spent
simple refuge from any additional elements
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