Maybe I don’t want uncomplicated happiness.
In the morning one of us turns
to dress away from the other
although little has changed.
In a better world memory would
always lead back to affection.
Who is that person on the edge
of the bed, looking back?
Nothing is uncomplicated, traveler.
Maybe I wanted you to stay
for the wrong reasons.
Maybe it’s the wrong reasons I love.
I too am somewhere over an ocean—
writing you this as fast as I can.
“As the years pass, that evening will lose definition, and what remains will be things that feel like truths, things I’ve always known: that reenacting the past is not so much a way of understanding how it affects the present, but that the past is still present and alive at this moment.” (via David Griffith.)