Five years, old friend,

And what a five —

What tremors have quietly shuddered over our faces,

What marks they’ve left:

Towers rising, passions waning,

And before a national audience

Our vices revealing themselves

In sharper and sharper relief.

As decay inexorably marches upon me,

The oceans clawing your docks

Will wash away every trace

Of the solace we found in whispering secrets

Down empty alleys,

Yet you’ll ascend, conveniently forgetful,

Resolute and undeterred and still something less than you were when I loved you —

I pray you have some collective awareness

That mirrors these musings of my lonely, singular one

Like your river once reflected for me,

In countless gleaming lights,

The notion that all time converges on release,

Yes! That notion,

Reflected in an image of you

That was rewritten within the hour!

(Can’t you see that I’m scared?

Will you sing me to sleep, then?)

☉